DA:Unforgotten
by fahRENheit2006
Summary: M!Cousland/Leliana. The sequel/continuation of the events in DA:Reminiscent after the Warden's Sacrifice. Leliana undertakes a perilous journey to save her lost Warden's soul. Fluffy, angsty, and even some action, mostly from Leliana's POV with a smattering of the Warden's journal for detail.
1. Chapter 1: Vision

**Ren's Note:  
><strong>_This is a direct sequel to DA: Reminiscent, so I would recommend reading that first (if for nothing else than to understand what sort of Warden this Cousland was and the mixture of Warden's journal and Leliana's point-of-view writing structure)._

_Otherwise, this picks up immediately after the Warden's Sacrifice and spins off on the game epilogue where Leliana wishes to be reunited with her Warden once more. Basically an AU of made-up events, but I will try to weave it seamlessly into Leliana's role and conversations for DA2. More action this time, but plenty of soppy romancey blather that I'm a sucker to write for.  
><em>

_Also, Bioware owns Dragon Age: Origins, Leliana, Schmooples, the Wardens, the whole shebang. _

* * *

><p><em>A long time ago, there lived a fair maiden called Alindra.<br>She had many suitors, but spurned them all, for she did not love them._

_One day, Alindra was sitting by her window in her father's castle, singing and dreaming,  
>when her lovely voice caught the attention of a young soldier. Entranced by her song,<br>the soldier drew near to Alindra's window. As their eyes met, he fell in love with her, and  
>she with him.<em>

_When Alindra told her father about the man she had chosen, he was furious, for Alindra  
>was high-born, but her love nothing more than a common soldier. To keep them apart,<br>he had Alindra imprisoned in the highest tower of his castle and sent her soldier to the  
>wars. Alas, not a month had passed before news of the soldier's death reached Alindra. <em>

_Alone in her tower, Alindra wept for her love and beseeched the gods to deliver her from  
>this cruel world. So earnest was her plea that the gods themselves were moved. They<br>gathered Alindra into their arms and lifted her high into the heavens, where she became  
>a star.<em>

_The gods also raised up the soul of Alindra's soldier love and there he dwells, across the  
>horizon from her. The band of stars between them is a river of Alindra's tears, cried for<br>her lost love._

_They say that when Alindra has cried enough, she will be able to cross the river to be  
>reunited with her soldier.<em>

A lady-in-waiting knocked tentatively on Leliana's door, uncertain if the woman was up for company. Leliana had not left Arl Eamon's estate in days, opting to remain in her room. She had been studying a book by candlelight, pouring over its passages and secrets, absorbing every detail. When Leliana wasn't reading, she was writing and composing. Lute strings being plucked and a high, sweet soprano echoed through the estate at all hours of the day now.

Meradin was responsible for Leliana's meals and was attempting to balance a tray of cooked rabbit and unleavened bread. She greatly admired the bard and was Leliana's test audience for her new ballad.

_The Ballad of the Hero of Ferelden._

The title alone set Meradin's heart to fluttering. She was one of the few remaining house servants who had been lucky enough to see the Hero before he gave his life to stop the Blight.

Though he had an ordinariness about him, the Grey Warden was never more larger than life when he spoke, Meradin recalled fondly. He had a strong, clear tenor and his voice had a quiet authority. He only said was necessary and true, no more and no less.

That voice came wrapped in a warrior. Average height with a superior build, the Warden had spent most of his life in heavy plate mail with sword and shield. His arms were powerful and he was built with strong shoulders to bear heavy plate, sword and shield plus his normal travel burden (and often the burdens of his companions, both real and emotional).

His face was carelessly handsome: sad blue eyes were framed by high cheek bones and an aristocrat's tilted nose and full lips. His reddish-brown hair was short and messy, for it was often tucked under a heavy helm. Large sweeping scars traced their way from his brow to his cheeks, mementos of childhood battles. Auburn stubble graced his strong jaw, collecting more thickly around his mouth and chin.

He was a force to be reckoned with on the battle field as well as off; he was a brilliant strategist packed into a warrior's trim body. His battle plan had saved Denerim from defeat at the hands of the darkspawn. His deeds would echo throughout Thedas for generations to come.

If only Leliana could finish her damn song! She had poured her heart and soul into the piece, taking little sections of his journal on top of their shared experiences to compose a suitable tribute to his valor. King Alistair employed many bards in his court, but Leliana refused to allow those novices to chronicle the Warden's rise. _And fall._

Leliana swallowed thickly, her grief always fresh even three months later. _Besides, no one knew him better than I._

Leliana nodded at Meradin as she silently strode in and settled the food tray on the table. Meradin leaned over to see the bard scratching a fresh chord into parchment with quill and ink. _Nearly there,_ Leliana thought soberly. _He deserves the best._

And then it was done. King Alistair requested Leliana's ballad to played at the winter feast celebrating the ground-breaking of the Warden's memorial tomb in Denerim. A white marble statue bearing the Warden's figure would stand at the center of the city, casting a silent vigil forever over the city.

The dining hall held its breath for the bard's beautiful melody. All eyes that were not captivated by the red-headed woman's fair face and passionate song were looking down at tables, sadly remembering the man himself. The Warden had touched everyone's life, either directly or indirectly, in large and small ways. When he wasn't charging into battle, the Warden worked quietly behind the scenes lending aid to lowly tavern girls and noblemen's sons alike. Those same people were all invited to this tribute, for Alistair wanted everyone to remember how his friend had unified Fereldens from all walks of life.

Leliana's song ended with his final goodbye he had written in a letter to her, pledging himself to her forever. "And all that he was, is, and forever shall be are mine alone." Her tears had started early on in the piece and had only amplified the passion and beauty of her soprano. Her fingers strummed a final chord and then it was over.

Several long seconds passed before the applause began, for her audience needed a moment to recover. Many loud toasts erupted during her standing ovation at the royal court, as everyone raised a tankard "For the Warden!" Leliana nodded quietly and accepted their congratulations. The other bards in attendance requested copies of her sheet music so they could share the tale on their travels. More than a few tipsy men (and women) requested private encores in their suites, which Leliana quickly (but graciously) sidestepped. They offered no comfort she wanted, for her comfort was being borne across Thedas to be laid to final rest at Weisshaupt in a tomb commemorating the four fallen Heroes of the previous Blights. _...They were now five._

No, Leliana only found comfort alone in their bed. She retired early for she was spent from the sheer effort she poured into her performance. But the question of what to do tomorrow concerned her. Leliana had been completely dedicated to this ballad so the prospect of being left alone with her thoughts frightened her. Her grief immediately following the Warden's death had been so sharp as to make her physically ill. With no distractions, it would be all too easy to retreat back into that miasma of hopelessness.

Meradin greeted Leliana at Arl Eamon's entrance, accepting her lute and cloak. "I heard the performance was a tremendous hit, my lady." Leliana nodded thanks but retired quietly to her room. She flopped down and began to sob into her pillow, her pain fresh and raw again. She saw his face in flashes, and during her song had to resist the urge to gasp for many in the audience bore a striking resemblance to her Warden. Exhausted, Leliana fell into a restless sleep...

_Surrounded by darkness. There is light, but for some reason I cannot reach it. Its bright beams flit just out reach, taunting me with its warmth and beauty. I am lost in a black fog, but unlike the darkness in my previous vision, I know these shadows are meant for only me. They form a barrier between me and everything I wish to touch. _

_Suddenly I see him, standing in a distant light. My heart leaps to hold him again and I run to him. But as he reaches for me and our hands touch, he shatters like glass. Pieces of him lay at my feet, but it is a puzzle I do not know the solution to. I want to scoop up the pieces, but each shard is swallowed by the blackness upon my touch. I grow more frantic as he disappears before me again, until only one piece remains. _

_As I pick up the shard, a dazzling light bursts from it and clears the air around me. I am reborn in the light._

Leliana awoke with a start, and feared she had gone blind when she could not see her surroundings. She started to panic until her eyes finally focused on the last embers of the dying hearth fire and she sighed in relief the Maker had not taken her sight while she slept.

_The Maker…_ Was He again trying tell her something? The last dream of this nature, she had wandered the Lothering Chantry gardens for a time to ponder it. When she was confident of its meaning, the red rose had revealed itself. What did this one mean? Would He again reward her with a sign if she deciphered its intentions?

_Obviously the darkness is my despair over my Warden,_ she sighed. He had left his personal journal to Leliana, trusting her with his heavy Grey Warden secret: that a Warden who slays an Archdemon is destroyed, body and soul. Knowing his soul, his beautiful, kind-hearted soul, had been torn asunder by evil nearly set Leliana to sobbing again.

But there had been a single piece left. _Could it be—?_

She sat up quickly in her bed, struck with a cautious hope. _What if there were a way to undo what the Archdemon had done?_ Leliana knew that some mages were able to raise dead, but that sort of magic was an abomination to the Maker. Besides, he was practically in the Anderfels so she had no chance to see his body without a serious undertaking even if she dared contemplate such a horror.

_What of his soul, though? Isn't that everywhere? _This thought gave her pause, as it rankled for being somewhat blasphemous. Souls are in the hands of the Maker and beyond that reeks of pride. _But …just maybe…_ As Leliana's eyes flitted around the room, they came to rest on his journal on the nightstand. She did not remember opening it, but it lay open to a drawing done in the Warden's neat hand and a dried, pressed flower. Both were of Andraste's Grace, her mother's favorite wildflower.

_Andraste._

Before she knew what was happening, Leliana was gathering up her things. First the Warden's trusty shield, bearing the crest of Highever. Her leather armor and bow were tucked away in the armoire, as was her travel pack. She tested her bow string, found it suitably pliant and checked the quiver to ensure it had a decent supply of arrows. She ran a grinding stone over her daggers as a precaution, for a dull blade on this journey could mean a swift death. Satisfied with her gear, Leliana scooped up her lute and travel cloak and tucked the Warden's journal into a satchel at her belt.

"My lady!" Meradin nearly shrieked as the door to Leliana's room flew open. She had just returned from a late night tryst with a servant in the Denerim market stalls and was shocked to see anyone still awake. Appraising Leliana's appearance quickly, Meradin cautiously asked, "Is something amiss?"

The servant regarded Leliana with wide-eyed disbelief as the bard murmured cryptically, "The Maker has come to me this night. He and I are to be reunited once more." With that, Leliana, her eyes wet with tears, kissed Meradin's cheek, smiled, and disappeared into the side door to the kitchen without another word. A clattering of tins and the rustle of sacks could be heard as Leliana stuffed food rations into her pack, then a door slammed shut for a final time.

Meradin stood there a moment, unable to comprehend what had just happened. A chirping interrupted her thoughts as she glanced into the now vacant room. A solitary nug sat in the middle of the floor, chewing on the bearskin run, wondering where its master had gone.


	2. Chapter 2: Safe Haven

**Ren's Note:**

_Sorry for the delay in chapters. I actually had the rest of this story figured out, it's just this specific transition chapter that was giving me grief._ _It also finally introduces some Action that has long been absent in my rambling, talky sop._ _I hope I do Leliana's mad skills literary justice, because there's pretty much nothing more rad than the stuff she does in the Sacred Ashes Trailer, all backflippy and dagger-dancey and arrow-shooty._

* * *

><p>This path had been taken before, but under far different circumstances. The golden fields of summer were replaced by barren unplowed plots, a trademark of the month of Wintermarch at the first of the new year.<p>

One benefit to the end of the Blight (and having a leader not adverse to foreign aid) was caravans from Orlais now roamed the Imperial Highway, loading and unloading merchant goods all along the Bannorn. A journey once only accessible on foot was now a 3 sovereign carriage ride to Redcliffe. Leliana hefted her travel pack, relieved she would not need to blot her map with bandit hideouts and darkspawn nests to avoid in the future, since the Grey Warden had been very thorough during his jaunts around Ferelden over the last year.

Leliana decided to pass the time rereading his experience on this road made only 6 short months prior, swallowing the pang of despair that always accompanied thoughts of him. She tightened her travel cloak around her, grateful for the horse-drawn cart's barrels of goods to buffer against the winter winds whipping about. She hoped reading of happier summer months would warm her within, at the very least, and pulled the Warden's journal from its familiar place on her belt satchel. _Always close by._

* * *

><p><em>Redcliffe 6:12, 9:31 Dragon<em>

_To see the nightmare of Redcliffe with mine own eyes… Gruesome. _

_We arrived in the peaceful village in midafternoon, tired and worn from the constant stream of darkspawn that peppered the Imperial Highway. Lothering had fallen months before and we dared not venture into that once quiet hamlet for fear of the carnage that undoubtedly remained. We could only pray that the refugees had left to seek shelter in the northern villages along the Bannorn, but I could not silence the whisper of despair at the back of mind. I also mourn that we could not have done more… It is a struggle to devalue Lothering in my mind as a casualty of war and simply move on, knowing how much of Leliana's history was wrapped up in that place._

_Leliana… My sweet Leliana… (I have to resist calling her mine aloud, for I do not wish to evoke the possessive that her previous lover, Marjolaine, used so freely to manipulate her)_

_I have taken great joy in asking to share my tent since our first. I never demand or assume, for that would be counter to chivalry. She has yet to refuse, but not all nights are a constant string of passionate explorations. Often I am content with the closeness, the warmth, the conversation. My dreams of the Archdemon have been soothed as of late._

_But I fear that Redcliffe will overshadow the Archdemon in a place of honor for my nightmares. We were guided to the Chantry by a farmer, past barricades and solemn soldiers whose eyes were heavy from lack of sleep. No one made eye contact, and the air about the lakeside town was thick with tension. _

_The Bann of Redcliffe, Teagan, met us inside the Chantry, explaining the horrors that had beset them. Skeletal ghouls and monsters swarmed the town nightly. They were besieged by an unknown enemy that made no demands and gave no quarter. The only discernable demand from their unholy tormentors was that leaving the village was punished._

_The hours of daylight swiftly waning, I made what preparations I could: bolstering morale of the first line of soldiers with prayers from the Reverend Mother (and ale from the tavern owner), acquiring caches of lamp oil to herd the monsters into our proper lines with fire, rounding up lost children who thought they would be safer hiding in unguarded homes rather than the reinforced Chantry, and encouraging resident mercenaries to join the fray (with a little encouragement from my sword tip). _

_The battle was fierce and went long into the night, but we were able to repel the ghouls with discipline. Skeletal archers and soldiers rose from the dust and swarmed our barricades, reeking of blood magic and fear. It was the dawn that finally defeated our foes, allowing us a tentative victory cry to echo through the town._

_The war still lingered though the battle was won, for the origins of the monsters was Redcliffe Castle herself. Only cutting it off at the source would give the village respite from attack. Though I had not slept in the last day, time could not be wasted. We had only the remainder of daylight to find the source or else Redcliffe Village would be doomed to repeat the nightmare once more._

_A hidden entrance at the windmill gained us access to the cellars of the castle, thanks to Bann Teagan. Volunteering to accompany the Arlessa Isolde, Teagan granted us a precious distraction to infiltrate the castle undetected. Skeletal guards and shades awaited us in the halls, but the tight quarters made their numbers ineffective at choke points. _

_The cause of the unrest was chilling: a boy. Just a child. Connor, Isolde's son, had been consumed by a desire demon who was using his body as a vessel to unleash havoc. The arlessa had unwittingly instigated two disasters trying to protect her son, both caused by the apostate mage she had hired. _

_The first was that the apostate, Jowan, had failed to guide Connor's mind away from temptations in the Fade. Jowan offered to repent by attempting to fight the demon within Connor, but I did not trust his blood magic to not damage Connor or Redcliffe further due to the second complication: Jowan was in Loghain's pocket and had poisoned Arl Eamon. _

_I called in a debt from the Circle mages to free Connor from the demon's hold, but the Arl was still at death's door. _

_We needed a miracle._

* * *

><p>It was that miracle that Leliana journeyed towards. She had seen its power with her own eyes, and surely something that could heal a living body poisoned by evil magic might also repair a soul torn asunder by an old god.<p>

After 4 days of bouncing along the road, Leliana reached her exit point along the Imperial Highway. She consulted a dingy map creased and stained with use for guidance. This particular map did not bear her Warden's neat hand, but was instead marred by corrections and notes. Landmarks were described or clumsily drawn and the destination was presented more as a treasure map with riddles and speculation rather than solid detail. Its owner had signed the back _F. Genitivi_.

_Redcliffe may have been the Warden's nightmare, but this place had been mine,_ Leliana sighed inwardly after thanking the merchant for the ride with the jingle of coin. Leliana felt a wistful surge of longing as the clop of hooves continued up the Imperial Highway north to Orlais without her, but her destination lay west. The winding path leading up the southern Frostback Mountains was marked by a single, solitary sign.

_Haven._

Leliana tightened her grip on her travel pack, her fingers subconsciously running over the feathery fletches of her arrows at her back. Haven was a sleepy village hidden away from a thousand years of history. And visitors were most unwelcome.

But tucked in the mountains behind this eerie town was a miracle. She had seen its power with her own eyes and prayed constantly that this power would work for her as it had the Warden.

Upon padding down the path leading to the simple town square, a soft lilting rhyme echoed in her mind.

"_Come, come, bonny Lynne; tell us, tell us where you've been.  
>Were you up, were you down, chasing rabbits 'round the town."<em>

It was a singsong Leliana remembered from her last experience entering Haven and still gave her chills. Once a dirty young boy had sat on the tree stump beside a weathered hut, morning fog dancing around his thin frame as he twirled a fingerbone in his hands. But the stump was now empty and the air was silent.

She stealthed past the hut, wary of meeting any remaining Haven denizens on the ascending path up the mountain.

But she needn't have worried. If any Disciples of Andraste remained, they were still in their houses or had abandoned the village entirely. Leliana was able to reach the chantry doors nestled at the base of the mountain without being seen. _A welcome change from our last visit,_ Leliana sighed.

Inside the church, Leliana found the map's owner. Brother Genitivi sat in the study, poring over documents and notes on the desk. Wooden crutches leaned next to him, a sign that his wounds from his earlier imprisonment at the hands of the Disciples were still mending.

"Good morning, Brother," Leliana said cheerfully, relishing the frightened gasp as Genitivi spun in his chair and nearly fell out of it.

"Who—? Sister Leliana! What are you doing here?" She stretched her hand to help the man recover his balance and return to his seat. Genitivi shuffled his papers in embarrassment, trying to retain some of his dignity.

"I am a just a pilgrim on a journey," she returned with a twinge of sadness. The Brother nodded sympathetically. "Arl Eamon sent a score of soldiers to keep watch for any remaining Andrastian Disciples. Some were at the Battle of Denerim. I heard about the Warden. I'm truly sorry, Sister."

Leliana gave him a tight-lipped smile, unwilling to discuss the details with him. "I wish to pray. Is the temple open to visitors?" Genitivi regarded her sadly before retrieving a pouch from the edge of the desk. He shook out an ancient door key along with a small medallion surrounded by notches. Shakily pushing himself onto his crutches, the Brother approached the south wall beside the bookshelf to fit the medallion. With a clockwise turn, the wall pulled back to reveal a path into a low cave lined with jutting stalactites and stalagmites. He limped aside, repocketing the hidden door key.

"You are my first official pilgrim, Sister. I have sent word to the Divine at Val Royeaux and petitioned the surrounding Grand Clerics in Ferelden, Kirkwall and Orlais for funds to help with upkeep and security. No word yet. The Temple is open, but the Redcliffe knights have spotted pockets of Disciples still lurking in the upper mountains so I keep this entrance locked. Walk with the Maker, child."

Leliana approached the door, but suddenly gripped Genitivi in a tight hug. He was, after all, the first friendly face she'd seen in days, and who knows what she would find on her way up the mountain. The older man patted her back consolingly, choosing wisely to remain silent.

"And you also, Brother."

The inner stairwells were just as she remembered them. As she carefully proceeded through the dilapidated rubble, Leliana's mind wandered back to 6 months ago. Even at the height of summer, the Frostback Mountains were frigid from the wind crossing between the Dales, the Waking Sea and Lake Calenhad. Glacial ice rested along the highest valleys, dropping banks of snow into the Ruined Temple's now blocked cave entrances.

The lower ruins were blessedly abandoned. Where once she, the Warden, Sten and Wynne had combed through disheveled bookcases and piles of refuse for room keys, now all doors were open to the wonder hidden deep inside the mountain: the Urn of Sacred Ashes. The remains of the Maker's Bride on earth, Andraste.

Her mind wandered back to their previous success in this holy place as she ventured deeper into the caverns. She prayed her efforts would be similarly rewarding.

* * *

><p>"You've seen and touched Andraste's Ashes…" Leliana remembered exclaiming to the Warden when they had collapsed back at the safety of camp, so eager to get away from that haunted ruin. "They are the holiest thing on this earth—the remains of the Maker's Chosen." Her voice had taken on a hushed awe, still hardly believing what they had just achieved.<p>

The Warden had been thoughtful since finishing the Gauntlet, the words of the Guardian and the trials he had faced weighing heavily on his mind. He had seemed almost bashful in his response. "I would not have disturbed them but for the Arl's sake…"

"I know," she understood. "It seems almost irreverent to use Her as a …curative." The very idea was both amusing and disturbing. "And it is also a tiny bit morbid."

Gripping the pouch tightly, the Warden had nodded. "It was necessary. I am grateful to the Maker that we succeeded." Whatever he had endured had tipped his faith wholly back into the Maker's camp, and she saw subtle changes to his behavior. There was a grateful gleam in his eyes now, a softness to the way he carried himself. He had the look of a man determined to appreciate every bit of life he had been given.

His bravery had humbled her, and nagging doubts started to creep into her mind. "I do not know if I am worthy to look upon her." Her gaze dropped to her feet, for part of her wondered if she was worthy to look upon _him_, either. Suddenly his hand was at her chin, gently raising her face to meet his sweet smile. "Andraste fought for everyone. She belongs to us all." He spoke with conviction. He leaned forward and kissed her, evoking a languid sigh from them both.

It was several blissful minutes before they pulled apart with mutual smiles. She was the first to break the loving silence, "Yes, of course. Still, it is something to be in awe of."

* * *

><p>She shook away the memory, determined to focus on the task at hand. <em>There's only one way to know if I am worthy to look upon her.<em>

The ruined lower temple gave way to a maze of caverns. Broken stone guardians stood impassively, their vigil over their ancient home disturbed both by centuries at the mercy of the elements as well as the trampling of the Disciples in their mission to breed dragons.

Leliana gave salutatory nods to the soldiers milling around the empty foyer. Ser Perth, one of Arl Eamon's defenders during the incident caused by Connor at Redcliffe, engaged Leliana in brief discussion. He warned of phantom sounds and still-burning abandoned fires, though his knights had found no source to either. Already one scouting party had failed to return, and they did not yet have the resources to risk a confrontation with an unknown enemy (or enemies).

She took their advice in stride, but would not be deterred from her task. After a year of dealing with werewolves, walking trees, possessed corpses and darkspawn broodmothers, Leliana's fear of the unknown had dwindled considerably. Especially considering what they had faced in this very place all those months ago. _Dragonlings. Ash wraiths. Religious zealots. And the cherry on top: a high dragon the cultists believed to be Andraste reborn._

She wound her way through narrow passages which occasionally bulged out to reveal antechambers that alternated between containing piles of crushed dragon eggs along altars or torches lining makeshift beds. Thankfully, the corridors were blissfully absent of the enemies from before.

At a fork in the path, Leliana knew her destination lie west, but a latent instinct gave her pause to look north. She remembered only to well the collection of ritual chambers and altars that lie at the end of that passage. And it was that instinct that told her to duck as an arrow whistled by her ear.

And then, that damnable chanting.

"_Come, come, bonny Lynne; tell us, tell us where you've been." _

Leliana rolled between two stalagmites as more arrows broke against the stone around her. In one smooth motion her bow was drawn taut with an arrow notched on the string. Her assailant was wasting far too many arrows on uncertainty, while Leliana's training told her to be judicious with her ammunition.

"_Come, come, bonny Lynne; we've a bed to put you in."_

She peeked her head out to spot a hooded woman readying another arrow. Leliana darted up, sprinted closely along the wall, and somersaulted to avoid the projectile. Her momentum in the spin carried her behind cover, and Leliana easily bounced into attack mode to let loose her arrow. It struck the cultist in the throat and the woman uttered a strangled cry before dropping convulsively to the ground.

"_It is soft, it is warm,  
>It will shelter from the storm."<br>_

Leliana crept further down the path, incensed to silence that horrible children's rhyme. It set her nerves on end and she internally struggled to breath steadily and let her bard training guide her movements. She was fortunately calm enough to spot an axe-wielding man attempt to blindside her at the chamber entrance. Sparks spit along the blade as it ground into the stone beside her, and Leliana leveled a kick at the cultist's groin before pirouetting away.

"_Come, come, bonny Lynne; we've a bed to put you in."_

Leliana smoothly slid her bow back against her back and ended her spin with her daggers at the ready in a crouched dueling position, her serrated blades pointing downward in her fists. The bearded man grunted in pain and made an erratic horizontal swing at her midriff. Leliana jumped backward on her toes and her torso bent forward to give the axe room to miss its target. Her arms, dangling above for a second to allow her balance, both swung downward to bury her daggers into the cultist's unguarded shoulderblades.

"_Dear, dear bonny Lynne sleeps the peaceful crib within."_

Another warrior in the shadows sought to tag team his fallen comrade with a longsword. Leliana managed to brace against the blow by holding her blades tightly to her wrists, but absorbing the force of the swing pushed her off balance. This cultist had been observing Leliana's technique, and made tight, controlled stabs that had her desperately parrying.

"_A mossy stone, a finger bone.  
>No one knows but Lynne alone."<br>_

Using her knowledge of the terrain to her advantage, she feigned defense to maneuver her attacker around the corner. A sickening _crack_ resounded as the cultist stepped into one of the many leghold traps that still remained scattered around the caverns from the previous dwellers. The distraction allowed her to cut the man's throat in a smooth slice.

"_Dear, dear bonny Lynne sleeps the peaceful crib within."_

Panting heavily from the exertion, Leliana turned to the altar atop the crumbling stairs. The boy stood with his back to her, but his peasant vest had been replaced by flowing black robes.

"I tried. I tried to find the crib for bonny Lynne. But there's no peace within," he murmured cryptically. Leliana approached with caution, her daggers at the ready, "I do not know what you mean."

The boy turned sharply. His once innocent face was contorted in rage and he held a small crystal tightly in his hand. "You took the Father from us. I tried to bring him back to us, but he won't tell us where he's been. Because of you."

His hands glowed and he lanced a bolt of energy at Leliana, sending her tumbling down the stairs. She landed heavily, winded from the force of the blast. She recovered quickly and had to dart and leap for cover behind a nearby boulder as electric sparks hissed and ricocheted around her. The air stank of burning ozone as the boy laughed maniacally.

"Please, I don't want to harm you," she called out. The boy snorted in reply, and his next words echoed with the voice of another. "He is ours now. His rage. His anger. You did this to him. And to the Father. You took our Andraste from us. We were all that was left of the faithful." _Abomination_, Leliana thought as she attempted to catch her breath. _Now a rage demon thinks that horrible high dragon was Andraste incarnate, too._

The boulder that sheltered her suddenly groaned and cracked down the middle. Leliana had only a moment to spring away at the rock shattered. She brought up her daggers to help her twist and deflect the additional spells the boy hurtled at her as she dodged behind a series of jutting rubble.

The boy clapped his hands together and a stormcloud began building a few feet above their heads. A blizzard-like cold enveloped the stone chamber as his fingers clawed and weaved an intricate pattern, sending icy spikes shooting from the cloud.

The spikes the boy summoned now struck at precariously hanging stalactites as he attempted to drive her from her hiding places. Leliana backed herself behind a rickety table as she found her footing. Seeing the jagged stones drop, it gave Leliana an idea. She shoved the table into position parallel to where the boy stood and crouched beneath it, pleading, "Please, don't make me do this."

"Do what? What could you possibly do to me?" His cackle reverberated throughout the cavern and his form morphed with bulging veins and scaly pustules as the boy fully gave in to Rage. His fingers darted out to send a bolt of energy at the stalactite positioned just above her, sending it plunging to the ground.

"This." Leliana hopped on to the far edge of the table as the slab of stone crushed the table's edge like a seesaw, catapulting the bard across the room. In midair, she flipped around for an optimal position, her daggers pointed outward like claws. Both her knees and blades made contact with the boy's chest as he snapped backward to the ground. His grotesque appearance instantly melted like a candle, his features blurring and sifting until just a scared, dying boy remained.

Blood gurgled in the boy's throat as he struggled to breathe. The sight was too close to her last moments with her Warden, so Leliana knelt down to try and comfort the child. "I'm—I just… I tried to save bonny Lynne. I really, really did. Will you take him? He doesn't belong here."

The boy gestured weakly at the altar. Leliana smiled sadly, gripping the boy's hand reassuringly before running up the stairs. Amidst the collection of ruined books and apothecary supplies, sat the gleaming crystal the boy had earlier. She picked it up and held it out to him questioningly, and he nodded. She slid the gem into a notch at her belt for safekeeping. _It must be important to him. Can't hurt to keep it for him._

The boy's labored breathing finally stopped and his eyes rolled back into his head. Still. Leliana sighed as she sheathed her daggers. _Was it all just a misunderstanding? Or were these Disciples of Andraste still just determined to kill anyone that crossed their path?_ She prayed their sacrifice was for some higher purpose.

The rest of the mountain ruins were again empty. The largest cavern still had some torches lit and traps set, but all the thrown-together living quarters and sparring grounds had been hastily abandoned months prior.

She continued out to the open air beyond, knowing the true battle lay ahead.


	3. Chapter 3: Begin Again

**Ren's Note:  
><strong>_Yea, so Mass Effect 3 pretty much ate my creativity and life. Read some of my new ME fics and be less appalled at the lack of updates here? Maybe? And that this fic will benefit from some of the things I've learned from writing other things? ...Maybe? *crickets*  
><em>

_A short chapter, more as a gesture of good faith that "LOOK LOOK IT'S UPDATED AND THERE'S MORE COMING I SWEAR"_

* * *

><p>The valley behind Haven no longer echoed with the booming roars of a dragon, but Leliana still felt the need to be cautious. Her eyes couldn't help but dart across the noon sky, looking for the silhouette of beating wings swooping in for the kill. <em>Swooping is bad,<em> she thought with bitter amusement.

She approached the mountainside where an ancient stone archway surrounded by broken walls marked the entrance to a long forgotten holy place. Ornate etchings once decorated the tall, heavy doors but a millennia of wind and snow had worn them almost perfectly smooth.

Leliana squeezed through the entryway into a familiar dank hallway. Grimy torches threw white light along the crumbling stairwell. Broken statues of women bearing large shields stared silently back at her.

Ahead, scuffs and bootprints revealed dark stone under centuries' old dust. Leliana's tracker instincts even detected her own light prints as she retraced her footsteps from a short 6 months ago. Her lightly textured heels followed heavier, deeper prints. The Grey Warden's path.

Her left hand gripped her bow more tightly but her right subconsciously dropped to the satchel on her belt rather than her arrow quiver. _He was the last one here. _His entry flashed in her mind, for it was one she carefully memorized in preparation for this journey.

* * *

><p><em>Temple of Andraste 7:26, 9:31 Dragon<br>The heaviness on my heart is nearly crippling. Fighting the people of Haven… men, women, even children to reach the final resting place of the Maker's Bride feels… hollow. For they are not demented ghouls carrying out a dark task, but mothers, fathers, sisters and brothers fanatically devoted to their beliefs. Would I stand idle while some roving band of interlopers assailed Highever under the guise of duty? _

_Even after these long months, my heart still aches to think of home, and how I lost it to Rendon Howe. My nights comforted in my bard's embrace under the soothing song of her words are a guilty pleasure. Who am I to know such joy while my people suffer? I tell myself I will one day return, if only to bury my family with all the honor they deserve. But what if I do not return? Will their souls find peace? _

_I was fearful to approach the lost temple. There was an eerie beauty to this place lost to time. The weather-worn statues must have once had proud faces, sentinels to guard holy treasures. I find myself more unsettled by their faceless countenance, uncertain if they would consider me friend or foe based on my tumultuous faith in the Maker._

_The temple guardian being a man of flesh and blood was a surprise. His armor was ancient and bore markings of a language long since lost to Fereldan tongues. He shimmered with an aura of magic and foreboding and dared all who entered to turn back now. The temptation to oblige was stilled by an encouraging glance from Leliana._

_I had never seen her so alive with wonder. Shining in her eyes, this secret place hidden from the world wasn't a ruin, but held the holiest relic known to man. I could not turn away empty-handed when she was filled with such hope, especially once I admitted that my happiness was becoming irrevocably tied to hers. She placed an innocent hand upon my arm and the simple effect was electrifying._

_Renewed, I confronted this nameless Guardian who wore the face and voice of a man. He explained he was the last living member of an order of knights who carried Andraste's remains from Tevinter here, revere and guard Her for eternity, and are forever bound to the ashes of the Maker's Chosen. The Guardian's expression darkened when I brought up the Haven cultist Kolgrim and his new and improved Andraste: a high dragon. I did not require a ghost to tell me that the cultists' were steeped in madness to worship a dragon. I was treated with slightly less hostility when I told the Guardian that Kolgrim and his false Andraste would trouble this mountain no more.  
><em>

_The Guardian then clarified that, to attain the healing ashes of Holy Andraste, one must face the perils of a gauntlet to weed the faithful from the unfaithful. He then took turns probing mine and my companions' souls. To what purpose, I know not. The Guardian provoked the Qunari with his actions over his lost sword. Sten stoically admitted his failing and temper when he slaughtered that Ferelden family. Wynne's wisdom was called into doubt, which she gracefully accepted as part of being human._

_A myriad of accusations were leveled at Leliana: that her visions implied false pride in being equal to Andraste, that her faith was a smokescreen to receive attention, and that she feared being lost to the Chantry when as a bard she was a remarkable individual. She insisted that she knew what she believed, and to my shame I was so stunned from my own conversation with the Guardian that I said nothing to back her up._

_I should have said that she needed neither Chantry robe or recurve bow to captivate. I should have said that her faith was kinder and more beautiful than any clerics I had met had ever professed. I should have said I believed her vision was a gift from the Maker, because without it we would never have met. I should have said something. Anything._

_Instead I was steeped in self pity. This Guardian asked me the question that I had long since pushed aside for the Grey Wardens: "You left your parents to Rendon Howe, knowing he would show no mercy. Do you believe you failed them?" I could only respond in anguish that I should have defended them to the death. My companions were consoling but the pain was too deep to be reached by words._

_In spite of the state of my soul, I was permitted by the Guardian to face the perils of the Gauntlet for the sake of Arl Eamon. I cannot claim that I was truly ready for such a feat, but like so much of my journey: I had no other choice._

* * *

><p>"You have returned, pilgrim."<p>

The Guardian remained in the temple foyer, eyes closed and vaguely translucent. Leliana approached the avatar of a man and bowed her head. "I seek Holy Andraste's blessed ashes."

"You sought this before," the Guardian stated emotionlessly, his eyes opening to peer at Leliana. "Your companion was the one who completed these trials. Did the ashes not fulfill his purpose?"

Pain flashed across Leliana's face as memories of Redcliffe, the Landsmeet and Denerim all paraded through her mind. Just bits and pieces of her Warden's facial expressions; triumph and defeat, hope and despair, peace and fear.

"I see."

Leliana was disturbed that this ethereal being was seemingly reading her thoughts. She clenched her fist holding her bow and felt the wood creak lightly. "Please allow me to submit to the will of the Maker. I need Andraste's ashes to heal someone very dear to my heart."

With a rumble, the doors behind the Guardian slowly pushed inward. The dim torches spaced around the foyer wavered with the sudden shift in air pressure, hissing and spitting in agitation. This was the most Leliana had seen of the temple, before the Grey Warden had strode through and the doors closed.

Before, Leliana had waited behind with Wynne and Sten. They spoke idly of simple things. Childhood memories of the Chantry or favorite hymns or books. She and Wynne would lob questions at Sten with the futile hope of a response. He never obliged. He stood, still as one of the statues, his patience infinite and unflinching. With his sword Askala at his side, the Qunari needed nothing and would wait for his _kadan_ to reemerge and continue his search for the Arishok's answer.

Wynne had spoken quietly to Leliana about her relationship with the Warden when the minutes turned to hours. Wynne apologized for attempting to push the Warden away from Leliana. Anger had never occurred to the bard, for she was so enamored with Wynne's motherly air that she immediately assumed the potential meddling was out of well-meaning concern. The elder mage was appreciative of Leliana's influence over the Warden, for she had noticed a softening of his stiff, sullen ways.

Quiet confessions had turned to liberal gossip about their companions and how they fared down in the Frostback Mountains scouring Haven for remaining signs of cultists while the Grey Warden and company treaded on holy ground. A side door had opened just as Leliana did her best Morrigan-yelling-at-Alistair impression.

The Grey Warden returned from a black hallway, his armored fist tightly curled around a small leather pouch. Leliana had approached him with awe, for in his eyes there was a blaze of focus and warmth that had been dulled by pain since they'd met. He said nothing, but gestured for them to follow him back down the mountain and reunite with their friends.

Leliana had chanced a look backward. The Guardian had disappeared during the Warden's trial, presumably to observe for fair play, but now he was back at his post, eyes closed as Andraste's impassive sentinel once more.

Now there was no Grey Warden to face this challenge. No Sten to guard her. No soothing voice of Wynne's to ease the silence.

Her faith would be laid bare before Andraste, and she could only pray it would be enough.


	4. Chapter 4: Choose Wisely

**Ren's Note:**

_While I enjoyed the whole _Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade_-esque problem solving in the Ruined Temple, it was way more focused on being a gameplay gimmick than a story-driver. I've altered the events to imply that the Warden flew solo for that round rather than it being a group effort (which pretty much only made sense to give you more shadows to fight and more bodies to stand on pressure plates anyway)._

_Now it's Leliana's turn to brave the Gauntlet._

* * *

><p>"You must be found worthy in the eyes of Andraste before you may take her ashes," the Guardian warned as Leliana paused next to him before a set of short steps. "The trials within the Gauntlet are designed to tell the true pilgrims from the false.<p>

"You may have …insight… on what awaits you." Steely eyes dropped to the satchel on Leliana's hip, which she subconsciously protected with her hand. He continued, "But the Gauntlet is different for every pilgrim.

"Walk with Andraste, child."

Leliana started to say "And you also," but stopped herself. This ghost of a man was as close to Andraste as anyone in Thedas. And the Guardian himself had before chided Leliana for having faith in the Maker despite His abandonment of His children.

Even without spoken words, the Guardian's forehead dipped in acknowledgement and gestured for her to enter. She noticeably shuddered before proceeding.

Padding up the steps, Leliana took in a room of high ceilings edged by ornate sconces with dull blue fire licking the walls. Eight ambulatories lined the central chamber, flanking closed double doors at the end of this Chantry-inspired nave layout. As Leliana walked over to the first transept, swirling shadows stole light from the sconces to give form to a humanoid spirit.

This ghost was different than the Guardian, for muscle and bone were visible under thin translucent skin. Even with eyes closed, Leliana could see the spirit's eyeballs staring back at her in an unsettling way. Blue flame shimmered as other spirits solidified to guard their respective wings of this trial.

The overall effect was suitably creepy. She knew she was not alone in her apprehension, for her Warden had approached this trial in a similar state of unrest.

* * *

><p><em>Temple of Andraste 7:26, 9:31 Dragon<em>

_The first trial required no sword or strength. It was almost childish in its simplicity: answer correctly to proceed. If there was one perfectly concise way to weed out the faithful from the deceivers, it was an examination of one's knowledge of the Maker's Bride._

_Surrounded by specters of history, each one posed clever riddles intended to divine their speaker's role in Holy Andraste's life and death. I admit my waning faith and long absent acquaintance with the Chantry made these conversations difficult._

_The anxiety over failure also haunted me, for I could not bear the thought of failing to recover the Ashes to heal Arl Eamon. This caused me to overthink the second riddle and blurt out an answer I knew was incorrect._

_The spirit transformed into a powerful Ash Wraith and I was hard-pressed to get my shield up in time to fight back. Its claws were not quite as vicious as the mindless beasts from the Fade and I easily bested what was once Thane Shartan. The irony of seeing Shartan defeated by a human once more was not lost on me, and I resolved to be more sure in my responses._

_After the fourth spirit was sated with my answer and lit the torches around the exit doors, I found myself dimly comforted. Though I had taken up this task as my leaderly burden, I knew that if there was one companion who would be accepted by Andraste, it would be Leliana. Part of me was cursing that I had not thought to send her before stepping through those doors, but I suspected she would return one day and would want to experience this for herself._

_Of the historic figures of this trial, I found myself identifying closely to Archon Hessarian. His words before disappearing are etched into my heart:_

_"I am the penitent sinner, who shows compassion as he hopes compassion will be shown unto him."_

_Despite the stress of the situation, I am appreciative of these moments. No one has set foot in this place in hundreds of years and, due to our efforts, the Andrastians might one day return here to rekindle their faith in the Maker. I prayed that it would return my faith as well, for I could use every inch of hope Andraste was willing to offer to stop the Blight._

* * *

><p>Unlike the Grey Warden, Leliana had been fully immersed in the history and lore of the Chantry for years. She could recite the Chant of Light at any moment starting from any of the Canticles and she knew more of Andraste's history than she did her own family tree.<p>

Her Warden's confidence in her faith was encouraging and Leliana approached the specters with intrigue. Some she knew on sight based on descriptions from the Chantry; General Maferath was identifiable by his armor, as was Lady Vasilia's cold beauty. But she related most to Ealisay, for stories of her childhood with Andraste were what inspired Leliana to become a minstrel:

"They say The Maker himself was moved by Andraste's song, and then she sang no more of simple things."

To move someone so completely, even the Maker Himself, with mere song was the embodiment of heaven on earth to Leliana. She was sad to see Andraste's friend evaporate into torchlight, but the ghost was a means to an important end. No wraiths sprang from angry spirits for Leliana, and the inner doors swung up with a creak as the last ball of light found its home in the circle of torches.

Her optimism remained behind in the first chamber as she approached the second. While Chantry history came as easily as breath to Leliana, she knew what her Warden had faced in this next room. What might be waiting caused her footfalls to stumble down the dark corridor and on more than one occasion did Leliana brush against a wall. The shield of Highever strapped to her back clattered noisily against the stone, sending scraping echoes up and down the hall.

* * *

><p><em>I was uncertain whether I would need blade and shield for any of these trials, but I held my weapons aloft all the same. The second trial was not as forthcoming as the first with its intentions. The dark hallway sent me tripping and stumbling at every turn and I had to resist blaspheming the Maker in Andraste's own house.<em> _Hardly suitable behavior when I was asking the Maker's Bride for a very large favor._

_I finally felt a wooden door with decorative stone trim. Pushing it open, the next room was a dismally small cupboard of a room with only enough room for me and a large glass surface. I confess I jumped slightly as a dark figure reflected back at me. It was several long seconds before I realized I was looking into a mirror._

_At first I saw only my own hollow reflection staring back at me. I didn't realize how unkind the months on the road had been to my once lauded looks. I even managed a bitter chuckle, wondering how I managed to seduce Leliana into my bed with my gaunt cheeks, messy hair and twice broken nose._

_Suddenly my reflection began to ripple, as though a stone were cast into a surface of water. My appearance morphed and ran until a new face shone back at me, one I believed I would never see again._

_"Father."_

* * *

><p>Leliana groped blindly for the door her Warden had described. More than one cobweb tickled her nose and sent ghosts of pressure across her cheeks and eyelashes. She swept her hand to try and remove the invisible threads. So engrossed was she in her discomfort that Leliana nearly slammed into the exit.<p>

Her hand at her cheeks hesitated, uncertain about opening the door. She wondered who might be waiting for her. Surely not her mother after all these years. Lady Cecilia, maybe? Would her old caretaker approve of the woman Leliana had become? She thought back to the Warden's experience, stroking the spine of his journal for comfort.

* * *

><p><em>Father was exactly as I remembered him the night before he died, and no blood spattered his regal teryn clothes. His expression was sad. I feared asking if he was disappointed in me. I feared so many things.<em>

_My doubts multiplied four fold in the silence and I gripped my sword all the harder. I wondered if I was meant to slay the figment of my father and if I even could do such a thing. His curious eyes seemed to be waiting for me and I could bear the silence no longer._

_"What has happened to you, pup?"_

_"I am a Grey Warden now, Father. I am sorry, I am no longer a son of Highever."_

_"You will always be my son, pup. Never doubt that."_

_"I am …sorry, Father. I'm sorry I failed you. And mother. Fergus. Our home. I didn't do enough and now it's all gone."_

_"Son, Highever still stands. Our people live. They suffer, yes. But you are fighting to release them from their suffering. It is noble. I am proud of you."_

_"How can you be proud?" I wondered what purpose this trial served. The Guardian said I had doubts. Was this just some insidious delight over my torment?_

_Father's reflection was almost reproachful as he extended a hand to me in response to my thoughts. "No torment of our devising could match that which you inflict upon yourself. No more must you grieve, my son. Take the pain and guilt, acknowledge it and let go. It is time. You have a long road and must be prepared."_

_I was stunned. In a trial about doubt in faith, the doubt was …me? Could this be a peace offering from Andraste? I had been without faith for so long, it was difficult to comprehend being looked after. My head bowed and my lips began moving to utter prayers nearly forgotten from boyhood. It was automatic, the gratitude and relief swelling within my heart. Darkness loosened its grip and unwound its chains from my throat and I took a deep, cleansing breathe._

_Doubt still pressed in from every wall, but it was lessened somehow. Lighter. It went from an oppressive yoke to a mere stone of burden. Was this the Maker at work? I found myself wanting to believe it. For the first time in nearly a year, I was …hopeful._

_Father smiled at me and for a moment familiar faces swam into view on the gleaming surface. I thought I saw Mother beaming back at me, but then she was gone. The mirror vanished and inside the gilded frame another hallway stretched before me. With Father's words wrapped around me could I press onward.  
><em>

* * *

><p>"I want to believe it, too," Leliana said to no one in particular. His enlightenment during this second trial was encouraging to her, but she wondered what she would face. She couldn't quite articulate any specific doubts she was having, so she wondered what might strengthen her faith as his did him.<p>

A familiar accent greeted Leliana as she stepped into the room. The Orlesian inflections nearly stopped her heart, as did the haughty reflection leering back from the mirror.

"Hello, my pretty thing."


	5. Chapter 5: Let Go

"Marjolaine? But… you are dead." Leliana's hand immediately found an arrow to notch to her bowstring and draw level with her eye. The reflection two meters away held up its hands in surrender.

"Come now, my Leliana. Let us keep things civil. I am not here to harm you, nor could I if I wanted to." The dark-haired woman rapped the mirror pane with a knuckle to demonstrate her glass cage. The reflection distorted briefly before settling back into place. "I am here to talk. Nothing more."

"How—why?" Lowering her arrow, Leliana chanced a few tentative steps towards the mirror. _I cannot proceed without facing her_, she remembered from her Warden's journey.

Marjolaine grinned, answering Leliana's thoughts. "You are correct, pretty thing. You need me here and here I am. So let us talk, you and I."

"What do you want from me? I have already chosen my path, and it did not include you."

"You are lost once more, like a little mabari pup. I found you the first time and took you under my wing. I gave you purpose." Marjolaine paused, her eyes misty with the memory. "Then the Grey Warden plucked you from the Chantry steps in Lothering and dragged you through a Blight. And now? You chase hopeless dreams inside ruined temples?"

Leliana scowled at this summation of her life, as though she were nothing more than a weak-willed puppet dragged along by whomever possessed her strings. "It is not hopeless. I have seen the power of Andraste with my own eyes. The Maker has not abandoned us," she fervently prayed.

"Did the Maker not take your new toy from you?"

Leliana growled through gritted teeth. "He was—is not a _toy_."

Her bardmaster saw an opening and twisted the verbal knife. "You speak of him in the past. Part of you has let him go already. Perhaps it was the will of the Maker to let him die?" Cruelty glimmered in Marjolaine's bright, toothy grin. "Who are you to go against the Maker's wishes? Or your precious Warden's, for that matter? Did he not accept his death willingly?"

Leliana chewed on these stabbing words. They were daggers, not broadswords, intended to winnow down her resolve slowly. It was right out of Marjolaine's handbook. She looked to her faith to help her push back. "I believe the Maker sent me to help him stop the Blight. And He has sent me to help him once more. We cannot help our fates, but we can fight and never give up."

Marjolaine's laughter was scoffing and airy. "Trite words, even for a bard. I taught you better than that." She crossed her arms and squinted at Leliana, her tone curious and probing. "You leaned on him to guide you into your Chantry's sheltered arms, and yet here you are running away. You kill once more, and there is no Game or Blight or Maker in whose name you kill. Do you think you have fallen off your new self-righteous path, and so quickly?"

The memory of the young mage boy from the caverns flashed into Leliana's mind. He sputtered and breathed laboriously, his life snuffed out by Leliana because she chose to come here on a fool's errand. _No, this is not foolish. _"I do not kill for sport or for the Game. My life was in danger and I had the right to protect it. Even from a child," she swallowed sadly, hating that the distinction was necessary.

"And undoing what the Maker has ordained? Are you the Maker's Chosen, deciding who lives and who dies?" These were strange questions for Marjolaine, who was never sentimental or philosophical about the lives she ended. Invoking the Chantry was unlike her and Leliana could feel herself pushing back against this glamor. _Danger_, her mind warned, before she said, "I am not so arrogant."

For a second, a glare passed over the mirror surface to show Leliana staring back at herself, though this Other Leliana was in orange and gold Chantry garb. Then she was gone and Marjolaine grinned back once more.

"Are you sure, my Leliana?"

"I am not yours," Leliana murmured, her fist tightening around her bow.

"I'm sorry, I did not catch that last bit. What did you say?" Marjolaine's smug lips were tight as her head tilted and her eyebrows raised.

"**Je ne suis pas le vôtre!"** Leliana's Orlesian shout echoed inside the cavern, causing the mirror to ripple and shake. Marjolaine struggled to regain her footing inside her mirror.

"I am not yours," Leliana sternly repeated once more in Fereldan. "And I never will be."

She lowered her arrow and glared defiantly at Marjolaine. The bardmaster said nothing, only scowled as the room darkened. Marjolaine's reflection rippled chaotically until it dissolved and a new silhouette took its place.

The Other Leliana had returned and her voice was cool and distant. "There have been many paths before us, no? How do you know we will not grow bored of the Maker as we grew bored of the Game? Or that we would not have tired of the Warden?"

"The Maker is in all things, and His wonders are everywhere. To bring light to darkness is a neverending path." Leliana felt a little silly talking to herself, as though she were trying to talk herself into something. Other Leliana crossed her arms. "Are you not trying to convince us every day that the Maker is real, that we have faith, that we carry the Chant in our heart?"

"That is what faith is. To hold and cherish and persist. I do not have all the answers, but I will never stop searching for them."

The reflection raised its chin in a challenging stare. "We have never aspired to more than a lay sister. If our faith is so strong, why do we not devote ourselves wholly to the Maker?"

The Warden flashed into Leliana's mind in reply.

* * *

><p><em>"You go back to camp. I just need to restock a few things before we journey to Denerim." The Grey Warden had gestured on ahead to me, Morrigan and our new companion Oghren.<em>

_The dwarf shouted back that he could always use more ale before continuing his awkward trek through the snow. Oghren had not stopped lamenting the vastness of the sky since he had set foot outside the gates of Orzammar… or when he did, he made lewd comments to the female companions._

_"Lead on, ya forest witch. I can't find nothin' in all this sodding sky." Morrigan resented this command and released a swarm of locusts from the head of her staff before imperiously marching across the snowy bridge._

_Unfazed, Oghren took to grabbing great handfuls of the insects and shoving them in his mouth. Chewing with relish, he grinned proudly at me. "Not bad, not bad. Woulda been better with some hot sauce, but it's got a nice crunch."_

_I shook my head and drew my cloak tightly around me to avoid the tickle of errant insects and the shiver of fat wet snowflakes. I prayed the weather would cooperate for us to return to our campsite just two mountainsides away. Maker preserve us._

_It did not. Even with Morrigan's begrudging assistance with dancing flames to warm the trail, the snow increased to a full-fledged blizzard by the time we finally collapsed into camp. I didn't know how the Warden was going to make it back, as we had barely found the hidden camp even with magical help._

_I busied myself with acclimating Oghren to setting up his own tent while deftly avoiding his roving hands. Alistair took it upon himself to set up the watch schedule and the course of action should the Warden not return before daybreak (the brilliant plan was to fan out and call his name to the heavens until we stumbled across him). Morrigan's taunts about Alistair's poor leadership caused the young Warden to burn the roasted rabbit stew he was cooking, which earned her more than a few dirty looks from the companions._

_I retired immediately after swallowing the last bit of tough rabbit and burned leeks, for I had the third watch and needed to rest up if I wanted to be remotely useful during the snowstorm. I had drifted into a restless sleep, for my concern for my new friend the Grey Warden plagued my thoughts._

_His bravery in the Deep Roads had been surprising. Though we had killed more than our fair share of darkspawn before entering the demons' nest, the sheer numbers lurking in those caverns was remarkable. They came by the dozens, jumping out behind rocks like monsters from nightmares. Even when ogres and emissaries and sharlocks clustered before ancient bridges to aid their genlock and hurlock brothers, the Warden charged into their ranks with nary a look back._

_I had found a smooth rhythm in the darkspawn slaughter. The dwarf, though mourning his missing wife, favored broad slices with his axe to send groups sprawling. Morrigan assisted his fallen enemies with foul magic poisons and horrors. I became adept at picking off enemies my—**the **Grey Warden shoved back with his shield. (Did I just call him mine? Why would I think such a thing? He is my friend, yes… but… Don't be silly, Leliana.)_

_He had surprised me still at his mercy toward the golem Caridin. Golems would be mighty allies in the Blight, as even I could not deny the paragon Branka's logic. But the Warden refused her offer, citing her sacrifice of Hespith and her house's women to the darkspawn as broodmothers in her search. It was a terrible fate these dwarves suffered at her hands, and more would suffer to bind souls to golems._

_I had been relieved to finally escape that place, for even though there was a warmth to the dwarven people, I felt smothered inside their stone walls. I would miss seeing the sunrise and the sky and the rain too much. And snow, even though at this moment there enough snow to thank the Maker for several lifetimes._

_Zevran shook me awake just after midnight. When I asked of the Warden, his pointed ears bobbed with his swift headshake. Still no word._

_The snow still swirled around my icy breath under my cloak hood. I dropped several more logs on the campfire and warmed my hands before making a quick circuit of the perimeter. My arrow found a fox that was nosing about our food stores, and I quickly skinned the creature and set the meat aside for breakfast._

_I returned to the fire and found myself singing a song I'd learned in Lothering at Dane's Refuge. I never revealed my past as a bard to the Fereldans, as I rather enjoyed being simply Sister Leliana. I merely professed an interest in song, which endeared me to the traveling minstrels who loathed Chantry reproach for their lifestyle. A minstrel from Weisshaupt taught me this melody._

_"the wind that stirs_  
><em>their shallow graves<em>  
><em>carries their song<em>  
><em>across the sands<em>

_heed our words_  
><em>hear our cry<em>  
><em>the grey are sworn<em>  
><em>in peace we lie <em>

_heed our words_  
><em>hear our cry<em>  
><em>our names recalled<em>  
><em>we cannot die <em>

_when darkness comes_  
><em>and swallows light<em>  
><em>heed our words<em>  
><em>and we shall rise"<em>

_I heard the loud snap of twigs and branches and readied my bow just as I finished the final verse. A cloaked figure held its elbow to its face to ward off the harsh cold as it stepped into the circle of light from the fire. Its other hand held a very large sack that appeared to be moving._

_I was briefly alarmed, until the stranger spoke. "Was that the Battle of Ayesleigh?" I lowered my arrow in relief. The Grey Warden stumbled right next to the campfire. He dropped his sack as he tossed off his plate gloves to warm his fingers._

_"Yes. I don't know why I thought to sing it. But it seemed an appropriate song to call a lost Grey Warden home." I remembered smiling at him, which he kindly returned. I was relieved to see him for I had worried a great deal._

_His blue eyes held mine for a long moment, and they said many things but he himself did not speak. I was briefly uncomfortable with the intensity though I am not certain why. He finally broke away to pull his pack to his side._

_I admit my voice purred slightly in jest. "Did you find enough Orzammar ale and dwarven souvenirs to make that Maker-forsaken trek in this blizzard worth it?"_

_The Grey Warden laughed, a boisterous sound from deep in his belly. It was a rare sound to hear, but it was truly wonderful. "Oh yes, my fair bard. I have a pack full of priceless treasures. You may covet my petrified nug dung carving of a golem all you want, but there is no sweet song or coin in Ferelden that would part it from me."_

_I giggled in amusement and relief. "I would not dream of it, my Warden." There was that word again. What is wrong with me?_

_I moved to alert our comrades of his return, but he held out a hand to stop me. "Before I must return to leading this sorry lot of Blight-stoppers, I have something for you."_

_"A present? For me?" The Grey Warden flashed me a lopsided grin that struck my stomach in a funny way and reached into his bag. He pulled out a shivering pink mass and dropped the squirming ball into my hands._

_"Ohhh! It's one of those subterranean bunny-pigs!" In my hands was an adorable nug. Its cute little nose bobbed back and forth, sending its little white whiskers to quivering._

_"Careful, he nips," the Warden warned. I held out my hand to the nug's little nose, but all I received was a curious sniff._

_"He's probably just hungry," I said in the creature's defense. "Oh, he's snuffling me! Snuffle, snuffle!" I squealed a little, overjoyed at the gift._

_The Warden tossed his sack over his shoulder and reached out a bare hand to pat the nug's back. The animal wriggled some so I had to adjust it and ended up brushing my hands against the Warden's. Some heat traced across my cheeks (surely just the closeness of the fire, yes? I cannot possibly be blushing) as I saw his kind smile return._

"_Thank you so much. You've made my day." For the nug, and for coming back._

* * *

><p><em>Oh Schmooples. I hope they're taking care of you in Denerim. And have not eaten you, knowing Oghren. <em>Leliana shook her head, pushing the thought away.

The Other Leliana winced at the memory, as though it burned. "If we are not Marjolaine's or the Maker's, then who's are we?"

Leliana returned the arrow to her quiver and ran a finger over the shield still sitting at her back. Finally, she smiled.

"Je suis le sien." _I am his._

The shining glass faded to black, devouring the reflection, then suddenly a bright light cascaded from somewhere deep inside the gilded frame. It teased another long tunnel hidden in its depths. Leliana stepped forward and gingerly reached out a hand to swipe at cool glass, but instead her hand sank into empty air.

A dozen steps inside revealed a low archway surrounded by greasy torches. Their light was what had prodded her forward. This deeper antechamber was larger than its predecessor by at least four times. The middle of the walls bore large torches while the sharp corners ended in darkness.

In the center of the chamber, a man knelt before her. His hand gripped a hilt and leaned his weight against a sharp sword tip that touched the ground. The kite shield on his left arm was blank of any heraldry, but the gilded plate armor was familiar. Intricately etched gold lined silver and black plate that jutted out in layers on metal pauldrons, gauntlets and greaves. A bright two-headed eagle decorated the center of the knight's breastplate.

"You must defeat me to pass," a low voice commanded. Leliana's bow clattered to the ground in shock as the knight lifted his head to stare into her eyes.

She would know those blue eyes anywhere.

They were her Grey Warden's.

* * *

><p><strong>Ren's Note:<strong>

_Yea, I know. I'm ending all these chapters on perpetual cliffhangers. Cheap move, I admit it. But I'm trying to get out shorter chapters faster with work looming over me, otherwise I'd get hung up on missing sections for larger ones. Plus the suspense is gripping? Maybe? *crickets*_

_I also welcome anyone willing to correct my French. It is the result of many a Google and translation search (I took Spanish over a decade ago so I'm quite hopeless)._

_I went back and forth between "Je ne suis pas le vôtre" and "Je ne suis pas à toi" and went with the one that seemed to resonate with the grammar primers better. If there is a more candid and informal way to say "I am not yours" and "I am his" in French, I would greatly appreciate the help. _


	6. Chapter 6: Burdens

**Ren's Note:  
><strong>_Another chapter, another apology. I swear that I am determined to finish this story. On the plus side, the newest distraction to my mental freedom (ME3's new Leviathan DLC) was not as lovely as the Extended Cut so this time there is no inspiration diverted to Yet Another Mass Effect Fic… about Leviathan anyway.  
><em>

_Anyway, I liked exploring the sort of trauma that occurs when someone you care for isn't quite what they seem. Even if you eventually forgive them, it can be a long, hard process to just work out your anger in your head. If only we all had the ability to work through that heartache with a sword. Stupid meddlesome laws and police._

* * *

><p>The Grey Warden knelt before Leliana almost in prayer. If not for a ghostly shimmer, the resemblance would be perfect. But in body only. The voice that challenged her was another matter entirely.<p>

"Are you prepared?" His once patient tenor was icy and layered, seeming to come from straight ahead yet all around her. It was a cruel glamor indeed, begging her to strike down the very person she was here to save.

"I... I cannot harm you. You are my friend." _And so much more_, she thought sadly. "Why are you here?"

"I am the burden you carry. I am anger. Heartache. Deceit. Sin. You are weighed down by these things and must release them. It was the same as he who came before you."

"He fought you?" Leliana was still. She had no idea. The Warden's journal, surprisingly raw and open about the last year of his life, was mute on this trial. The few pages dealing with this part of the Gauntlet had been torn out. …_On accident or on purpose? Was there something he did not wish me to know?_

"Did you not wonder why he hid this from you?" The Warden asked in response to her thoughts.

"I—I do not know."

"Yes, you do. It is just as you suspect." The Warden lowered his head. A blast of wind tore into his form, changing and blurring it. Until Leliana looked upon herself.

"He is your burden, just as you were his." The Warden shimmered and returned in place of the other Leliana. He stood and pointed his sword at the bard. "His burden was duty versus affection. He hated his feelings for you. They suffocated and haunted his waking dreams... consumed him with guilt and diverted his focus. He had to conquer his guilt."

Knowing she was her love's enemy made it impossible to breathe. Leliana wanted to cry but tears wouldn't come. Only a vast emptiness spread within her, a hollow despair that growled with rage and resentment.

_How dare he? How dare he blame me? All I wanted was to help, to soothe, to console. I was not a—a thing to be overcome. A trial. An enemy._

_But is he not my enemy now? …why? _

The Warden answered, "You must conquer your burdens to be free… and worthy of Andraste." His footsteps clanked toward her as his right arm swung overheard in a powerful slice. Leliana jumped to the side to avoid it, but he recovered quickly and followed close behind.

She wondered if this illusion could harm her, since Marjolaine had been a mere reflection. The false Warden's shield lashed out in a bash, striking Leliana's defending wrists and sending her stumbling backward against the oily shadows on the wall. The kite shield on her back loudly absorbed some of the blow, though the reverberations through the metal jostled her spine and shoulders. The sharp pain of the metal digging into the flesh of her upper arms propelled Leliana into a low duck away from the Warden.

"I am real as you believe me to be. And it would seem you crave this battle, do you not?" His icy words had a touch of gloating. "If you do not fight back, then you are consumed. Many have chosen consumption. The sweet illusion was a kinder fate than what lay ahead in the final chamber."

Torchlight flickered over heaps of skeletal remains laced with cobwebs. A final resting place for those unworthy of Andraste's Ashes. Leliana gritted her teeth and shook the whispers of doubt and defeat from her mind. _I am not so weak as that. I have come this far. _She yanked his shield into place on her left wrist with determination.

Another shield strike pummeled the bard but her Warden's family crest lessened what could have been a crippling blow. Her dagger still lay sheathed at her side, unwilling to be set free to wound even a glamor of him. Mocking laughter erupted from above and below, even inside her head.

The ghostly Warden circled once more, rolling his sword-wrist menacingly. "Do you feel nothing? He lied. Over and over again. He chose death over you." This was punctuated by a thrusting sword strike that barely ricocheted off Leliana's cover.

His words struck home despite his sword glancing away. "He didn't know! There was another way! There is always another way!" The words tumbled out, though Leliana knew they were false. She hated that this Thing, this figment, knew her deepest thoughts.

"But he did. You have his record," The Warden said, pointing the sword tip at Leliana's satchel. "He could have bedded the swamp witch and she could have born his child. He could have allowed the other Warden to bed the witch. He could have let the Warden King fulfill his wish and slay the Archdemon in your Warden's stead. I count no less than three opportunities he cast aside in order to greet death like an old friend."

The Warden's plate boot crunched over Leliana's fallen bow, breaking the wood in half. Leliana couldn't help but flinch as though she had been struck, for that bow had been a loyal ally for many months. "He was—**is** good and honorable. Alistair is his brother. He would never allow harm to befall his friend and king. And Morrigan? Caring for a child who is also an Old God?"

She paused a moment while circling the Warden's pressing attack, briefly envisioning Morrigan holding a terrifying half-dragon child with a tail that was pulling her hair and lighting things on fire, all while Morrigan shouted and pleaded with the heavens to give her the strength to endure it. Leliana dodged another swipe from the Warden, which interrupted the inner laughter that bubbled in her throat for a brief moment.

"If her mother Flemeth is any indication of her potential parenting skills, the Warden was wise to deny Morrigan the opportunity to bring a child into the world."

The humorless Warden lashed out with a flurry from his sword, which Leliana blocked. "And what of your children, never to be had? He did not seek your hand. Nor pondered children with you. He looked after another woman's child, the elven orphan Amethyne, better than he did you. What did the Grey Warden leave you, his beloved? A journal, a shield and an apology. And here you are, tagging along in a dead man's footsteps hoping for closure that will never come. Death is the only certainty in life. He knew that. Why don't you?"

Suddenly the Warden's shield swung at Leliana's right, stinging her elbow. The pain was a shockwave through her entire body, sending her stumbling backwards.

That did it. Pain was briefly forgotten in favor of fueling outrage. Her anger briefly boiled over as she freed her dagger from its scabbard and swung it uselessly against the false Warden's aegis. The clangs and sparks echoed around the cavern, as did her cries. "You coward! I would not be here if not for you! Why didn't you trust me? Why couldn't I help you? I would have understood! Anything to let you live!"

She pushed and pushed, each shout earning her an extra foot of give as the false Warden fell back. "Always had to go it alone. To be strong. To be the hero. I didn't want a hero! I just wanted you."

The Warden's sword swiped upward but she batted it back down with the flat of her dagger, taking strength from her long dormant rage. "Why? Why wasn't I enough? Why didn't you want to live? **Why didn't you just ask me?**" That last part calmed her battle-lust, though Leliana's chest heaved with her pounding heart.

"Why didn't you ask me?" She repeated. Demanded. The false Warden was on bended knee before her blows, his head bowed exposing his neck. A cluster of whispers, shaped by both male and female voices, tickled her ears. They simply repeated _"Finish it."_

The point of her dagger lined up with the base of the ghost's neck, but it hovered uncertainly. Leliana stayed her hand, for a curious thought struck her.

"Why—why must it be either or?"

The Warden remained still, but there was condemnation in his tone. "So you admit accepting your anguish over the light of the Maker?"

"You twist my words. I am not Holy Andraste. I am mortal. Fallible. I will never be free of burdens or emotions or weakness. It is in how I carry them. Is that not faith? Is that not worthy of Andraste? To continue on even though the burden is at its heaviest and I cannot take another step?"

"What do you choose, pilgrim?"

She considered a moment, then sheathed her dagger. Her chin lifted with hope. "I choose to forgive. It is not wholly mine in this moment, but I believe it will be… someday. His intentions were just and true. My heart may be broken but it has not shattered. Is that—is that enough? It is all I have to give."

The admittance was hardly clarity. Turmoil still rippled in Leliana's chest, bouncing from calm understanding to seething resentment. She could not be cured of this plague of emotions at a moment's notice. Maybe after months if not years of living could these writhing shadows fade. She was merely aware of their darkness now and pray to maintain her sanity.

Lifting his head, the false Warden nodded solemnly as his sword returned to its scabbard. "You may pass."

The door behind them rumbled open, revealing a sharply ascending staircase. Light danced in the distance, for at the top of the stairs tall flames licked the crumbling stones. But the fire came no closer, confined to its invisible place as a stairwell guard. Leliana turned back to say farewell to the third trial guardian, but the chamber was empty. Despite his role as a hindrance, the false Warden had been a strange comfort.

She only prayed the Real Thing would be more rewarding.

* * *

><p><em>Temple of Andraste 7:27, 9:31 Dragon<em>

_The hallway darkened. Color drained from torches into a purple-blue wave, absorbing all the heat from the room. The Fade was especially thin here, was it not? How many of these things are real and how many are nightmares from our deepest dreams?_

_I had no time to consider the mind behind the Gauntlet, for two shadows leapt at me. Pure instinct and luck saved my head from being liberated from my neck. The dark forms were almost wraith-like, but when I drew my sword to engage, their transformation stopped me._

_To my right was a curious reflection of myself, though warped by age and time. There was a malevolent, black aura about his plate, and black veins traced up his neck to milky white eyes. This Cousland was the fullness of time at the hands of the Grey Warden taint, I knew. He was sneering and cold and he carried a sword and shield like mine, though absent of decoration._

_To my left was my Leliana. But not as I knew her in my arms or dreams. There was a haughty expression on her face, rather than the guileless peace of her true self. The daggers she spun menacingly were jagged and dripping with toxins, She carried herself with an arrogant ease, but the fluidness of her motions had my teeth on edge. I could not let my guard down for even a moment._

_The two figures, enemies as they turned out, drew on me and I was hard-pressed to fight back. They were adept at dancing just out of final blows, but their attacks rattled and jarred my armor. One strike from the Other Me even drew blood along an exposed section along my side._

_Battle clarity aside, I had enough wits about me to ponderthe meaning of this trial. Faith and doubt were understandable enough, but this was altogether alien in its intent._

_I finally shouted at them to stop and to explain themselves. They were figments of Acceptance in order to be worthy of Andraste. They were my burdens, the closely guarded pain that gripped my heart. Elder Cousland was my Grey Warden duty, my future (whatever that may be) as a protector of men. Always fighting, never resting. Leliana was my heart, my desire to be free of my duty and be at peace._

_I was angry that the debates I had warred with over the past few months were being used against me in this place of the Maker. I already knew what lay down each of these paths, Andraste did not need to torture me with them further. I was doing my duty, was I not? I have not once traded Leliana's sweet warmth for what I swore at Ostagar. Why can I not quiet those nightmares with kindness and beauty? Does the Maker not want me to believe the world is worth saving?_

_I engaged in my foes once more, renewed by resentment, but they met each swipe and jab in turn. The Elder Cousland demanded that I choose between them. I refused. Then the Other Leliana demanded the same, along with sultry strokes along her smooth hips. Her purrs in favor of love were nearly too tempting to resist, but a voice of warning held me in place. _

_Acceptance was not succumbing to desire or bitterness. I told the wraiths that I refused to make that choice on a whim, but instead I will keep both close to my heart to lean on for strength rather than collapse under weakness. To abandon one would still betray the other, I reasoned. I would never be truly happy in some faraway land with Leliana at my side, knowing my home was consumed by darkness. But nor could I face the brunt of the Archdemon without an ember of hope if I snuffed out this fragile tenderness I had captured for myself._

_I threw down my shield at the Other Leliana's feet and dropped my sword at the Elder Cousland's. I held my hands up in surrender, proclaiming that if the choice of sacrifice was my decision, then I would offer up my own life before I would harm Leliana or abandon my duty. _

_I feared the consequence of honesty, but to my surprise they ceased their assault and allowed me to continue, saying I had passed the test._

_A short staircase beyond was a terrifying sight, but a carving in the wall revealed its intent. _

"_Cast off the trappings of worldly life and cloak yourself in the goodness of spirit.  
>King and slave, lord and beggar; be born anew in the Maker's sight."<em>

_I personally did not consider burning in flames a "cloak of the goodness of spirit" but at this point I was too exhausted to be afraid. My nerves felt raw and numb at the same time, while my heart pounded with a mixture of fear and awe. I could see the Urn of Sacred Ashes just beyond. And I had made it this far. I could only pray the Maker would believe in my intentions, for I had come too far to fail now._

_I just hoped that failing didn't involved being naked and burned alive._

_Thankfully, the Maker was feeling merciful and I passed through with nary a burn. I gathered my discarded armors, not feeling that I should meet His Bride in all my glory (so to speak). _

_To accept that pinch of Her ashes and accept the congratulations of the Guardian was… I still struggle for words to describe it even days later. I was outside myself, distant and strange. To say I was amazed was insufficient, I was simply… whole. I felt whole, like the cracks in my soul were filled with mortar finally and no longer in danger of flying apart._

_I hope this feeling remains. Regardless of where the Maker sends me in the Afterlife, I feel briefly content that I was able to touch a piece of His Beloved. I hope… I hope She remembers me. In a good way._

...The Warden stared out at the fire for several long moments. He almost thought he could still see the Urn of Sacred Ashes peeking through the flames. He shook his head to clear it and set his writing stick back near the fire to make more charcoal. Standing up to stretch, the Warden set his open journal down on the tree stump chair and yawned deeply.

Early morning light was starting to warm the chilling darkness, though birdsong was still noticeably absent. Too early. The Warden turned to Leliana's—**their** tent when he heard a deep inhale from his bedmate. She was starting to stir. He smiled to himself, eager to return to her side for that kind moment when her eyes open for the first time on a new day.

His mabari awoke with a bounce upon seeing its master up and about. Ignored for far too long, the high-energy beast jumped and licked at the Warden's face, though he desperately tried to quietly chide the dog. Pushed away for the last time, the mabari snatched a stick from the collection of firewood and pranced in a circle, hinting that it wanted to play.

The Warden chuckled and shushed the creature, always with the promise of "Later, later," but the dog had been lied to before. It spat the stick and found the Warden's charcoal stick, but the brittle thing dissolved in the dog's mouth. Unhappy with the bitter taste, the dog hacked and coughed to clear the crumbling chunks.

But the Warden made his first mistake. He reacted to the dog's antics. Encouraged, the dog pounced on the Warden's second mistake: his open journal on the stump. Spitting wet charcoal pieces all over the leatherbound book, the dog stopped for a second at the Warden's mutter of alarm.

"Don't. You. Dare."

The mabari's powerful jaws darted out and snapped up the book, sharp teeth digging into the second half of the volume. The Warden lunged for the dog, which it took as a happy cue to give chase. The Qunari rolled his eyes as canine and Warden ran by him four times, shushing them both for potentially alerting possible enemies in the trees.

The beast finally came to a stop just inside the camp grounds, its hindquarters wiggling with glee as its powerful front paws hovered over its prize journal protectively. The Warden stopped, his hands held up in surrender. He took a few cautious footsteps closer, but the mabari grew bored of the game. Its snout reached down and liberated several pages with a loud rip, before running off. The dog's head shook violently in the same motion it would use to snap a smaller prey's back. The pages crumbled in the beast's mouth, wet fragments flying in all directions.

Sighing, the Warden scooped up his journal to inspect the damage. He made a mental note to pick up more parchment after they returned to Redcliffe to deliver Andraste's Ashes to Eamon.

"It could have been worse. At least I didn't lose one of the good memories," he smiled, vowing to treat his old friend better. Maybe with a nice fat cut of deer the next time they went hunting.

He looked down the low mountain, where a trail appeared and faded through openings in the trees. Lake Calenhad sparkled with the touches of sunlight to guide the group back to their final obstacle before the Landsmeet. The journey was nearly over.

But another's journey was just beginning.


	7. Chapter 7: Ask and Receive

_"Cast off the trappings of worldly life and cloak yourself in the goodness of spirit.  
>King and slave, lord and beggar; be born anew in the Maker's sight."<em>

Leliana's fingers traced over this etching in the wall, hoping the added touch would extract meaning from the riddle. Through the barrier of flames, a large interior chamber beckoned. Crumbling statues lined the walls, guarding a small central altar plus an elevated altar where an eerily immaculate stone Andraste looked to the heavens in prayer. An eternal flame burned in her left hand while her right clasped at her chest.

_...Andraste..._

_Of course!_ Leliana admonished herself for not understanding sooner as she knelt down to unlace her tall leather boots. She had to resist the urge to touch a testing hand to the flames to see if she were correct in her assumption, for it was likely this was a trial that wasn't forgiving with second chances.

Several charred corpses were scattered at the corners of the entryway in warning. She recognized pieces of armor and weapons of the Andrastian Cultists of Haven, though it seemed these (un)lucky few had made it through most of the Gauntlet... only to be cast aside at the homestretch. _They must not have read the instructions properly._

The chill of the high altitude raised nubby goose flesh on Leliana's bare skin, contradicting the angry fire roaring only a few feet away. It took several long, cleansing breaths for her to gather the courage to take a step closer to the flames.

_It is fitting that to be worthy of the Maker's Bride, one must be willing to suffer her same fate. And he was worthy once. He stood here, willing to leave his protection and take a chance to save a man he didn't even know._

This thought soothed Leliana, for the third trial had rattled her feelings toward the Grey Warden a great deal. Her anger had ebbed, but the hurt that had been festering below the surface since she'd read his journal for the first time 6 months ago remained.

And beyond feeling deceived, Leliana was blistering with resentment that there was no true outlet for her turmoil. He wasn't here to be confronted and screamed at for his inconsiderate heartlessness, his betrayal, or his poor communication.

_And there never will be if I fail._

The bard folded her gloves over the rest of her clothing, and rested the entire collection on the Warden's shield. Holding out her clothes and possessions almost in offering before her, Leliana took one last, deep breath.

_What do I have to lose?_

Closing her eyes, she took four long strides into the wall of fire. She flinched in slight fear, but when 5 seconds ticked by, and then 10, without any pain, she risked a glance around. The low altar stood only 2 meters in front of Leliana, while the angry flames behind her flickered harmlessly.

Suddenly the Guardian's voice echoed around her. "You have been through the trials of the Gauntlet. You have walked the path of Andraste, and like her, you have been cleansed. You have proven yourself worthy, pilgrim."

_Worthy..._

Setting thoughts of the Warden aside briefly, Leliana was able to savor the gravity of the situation. A thrill of giddy, child-like wonder wove up her spine as she took in the large chamber where Andraste's ashes rested. She and the Grey Warden were the last to set foot here in hundreds of years. A traveler's bones rested near one of the arched doorways. Another worthy pilgrim who had been unwilling to leave the radiance of the Maker's Bride. _Unwilling to let_ go.

Rather than relief, anxiety hit Leliana as she dressed. Even the simple routine of buckling her leather armor and checking her quiver and supplies was only a temporary distraction. She'd lost more than a faithful bow on this journey, she'd lost faith. In him. Everything had began so mournful, but there was always that bolstering hope pushing onward. Now, that hope was shaky and uneasy at the end of the journey.

_...the end... Was this truly it? It didn't seem possible to find the ashes of the Maker's Chosen, or dare be worthy of them. But here they are, right in front of me. Could—could this be possible?_

The Guardian appeared at the foot of the stairs, his translucent hand directing her up them to where a large, gilded urn sat illuminated by a crack in the ceiling. Her footsteps were heavy and echoing as she ascended. She fumbled around the collection of leather pouches at her belt, searching for a suitable container for the ashes. The small crystal she'd recovered earlier was transplanted into the satchel with her Warden's journal, freeing up a small bad with an ornate Chantry design. Just the right size.

"Approach the sacred ashes."

The lid of the urn was surprisingly heavy, just a small round gold stopper with a gilded handle. The urn was only half-filled with a sandy gray powder, so Leliana had to dip her entire forearm into the tall basin. Uncertain of how much a "pinch" was considered, her four fingers cupped around her thumb to collect what she hoped was a suitable amount. Depositing the ashes into her small pouch, Leliana replaced the lid.

The dustiness of her fingers caught her attention, as she wasn't sure what she was to do with the residue. Wiping them away seemed disrespectful, so Leliana instead touched her fingers to her forehead in a sort of anointing of herself. She prayed her favorite Canticle as well:

"_Blessed are the righteous, the lights in the shadow.  
>In their blood the Maker's will is written."<em>

Returning down the steps, Leliana paused at the small altar. She had intended to return to Denerim to use the Ashes, but her dream from before flashed in her mind. _If his soul is everywhere, does it matter where I am? Wouldn't I rather know now if what I desire is possible?_

Leliana stood before the Guardian, daring him to send her away. The spectral knight stood impassive yet curious, but he did not prod her to leave.

Satisfied the spirit didn't plan to interrupt, she removed the shield at her back. The rivets along the edges were rusted and worn to match the criss-crossed scrapes adorning the Highever heraldic crest. Leliana couldn't help but run her finger over the faded green brushstrokes of the intersecting tree branches on this unremarkable-looking kite shield. It had been her Warden's steadfast protector, always either waiting on his back or strapped to his arm.

It was the best piece of him she could imagine: the perfect symbol to embody the man he was. If his soul would be drawn to anything in this world, it would be this simple shield. For in life, he was a shield against the darkness for all of Ferelden.

_And for me,_ she thought sadly.

Placing the shield on the altar, Leliana readied the pouch of ashes when an uncertain stream of thoughts struck her.

_What am I doing? How does this even work? He had simply poured the ashes directly onto the Arl and the response had been instant. Did he pray? Was there some method to this? What was I thinking, not having Wynne or another mage here?_

The Guardian's booming voiced answered her thoughts before she could even turn to make eye contact. "The ashes of Holy Andraste are merely the answer to a question. Ask of Her, and She will determine if your request is worthy."

She nodded and took a deep breath, silently praying as she approached the altar once more.

_The Righteous stand before the darkness… and the Maker shall guide their hand…_

"Please, Holiest Andraste, will you—" Leliana hesitated, trying to find the right words. "—make this Grey Warden's spirit whole once more?"

She found herself rambling onward, desperate to communicate properly all she wished but never got to say to him.

"Please. Bride of the Maker. It is a tragedy that has befallen this man. This beautiful, kind, merciful man. He fought. Every second of every day that I knew him, he fought. For You, for me, for Ferelden. He is a light in the darkness, and he lit my path and the paths of so many others. Please, O Holy Andraste, this man was a shield for your people. His soul deserves the chance to be worthy of You, to one day sit at the Maker's side. I ask to return him to where he belongs."

Leliana paused a few moments for the echo of her words to fade, hopeful they reached their destination. She slowly and deliberately extended her arm, took a deep breath, then overturned the pouch over the shield. Black and gray peppered the metal surface, obscuring the leafy crest and settling into the etchings.

And then waited.

Leliana didn't realize she had been holding her breath until she was forced to loudly inhale another. _Nothing? Nothing at all?_

Not a breath of wind, nor a flicker of candlelight. She didn't know what she expected would happen, but surely more than nothing. _Would I know if it worked? Did I ask too much?_

She turned to the Guardian, who remained impassive on the stairs. A vague question tumbled from her lips, "Did I—Did it—?"

"Your question was sufficient," came the booming reply. "But the remains of the Maker's Chosen cannot answer what is not there." There was no emotion in the voice, only cold detached fact.

"So he's—you're saying…" Leliana could not even articulate the word. _Gone? _She subconsciously drew her left hand to her mouth, clutching her jaw shut to keep her emotions from spilling out in an angry torrent. Her right hand she drew up tight to her chest in an attempt to shield her heart from the ache that now pounded hopelessly inside it.

_All this way. I thought—I hoped… I believed this would work._ Leliana doubled over, desperate to keep her desperate shaking restrained.

_I cannot lose again what I have already lost._

Her right hand slipped into the satchel at her belt, retrieving the journal from its familiar home. _The worst part is I cannot even apologize to him for failing. This is all that remains._ She drew the volume to her mouth and tenderly brushed her lips against the worn cover.

"I'm sorry, my love." The words were a whisper. Leliana leaned over and placed the journal atop the shield. _This is where he belongs,_ she thought sadly while trying to gain control over her mournfully quivering frame.

Suddenly there was a boom of thunder. The moment the journal touched the shield, the book burst into flames. The combustion was not so strong and spontaneous to knock her off her feet, but Leliana was stunned long enough.

"No!" She reached out to attempt to smother the flames, but the damage was already irreversible. The worn pages curled as they blackened and smoldered, all his secrets, joys, victories, defeats, mistakes and desires becoming one with the ashes of Andraste beneath it.

"You have your answer." The Guardian was suddenly at her elbow. Before she could ask what he meant, there was another flash of light.

Once the intense white light dimmed beyond her tightly closed eyelids, Leliana risked a tentative peek at her surroundings. But instead of beholding the ruined altar and stairs of the temple, she saw a different place.

One that existed only in her dreams. _And nightmares._

* * *

><p><strong>Ren's Note:<strong>

_A short one this time. I might have made the ashes a little more mystical than they were intended to be, but it did seem odd that inanimate corpse dust would know what ailments to cure. I figured they'd need a little praying and guidance to get warmed up to do their thing._

_I might edit this to ratchet up the sappiness factor. This is the first time in a long time where I haven't thrown in a Warden perspective, so I was indecisive if I needed it or not. _


	8. Chapter 8: Not Alone

The world was tinged with blue and gray, and a fog lurked as though inside her peripheral vision rather than the place itself. There was also an impenetrable stillness that hinted no breath of wind ever touched this place. _The Fade._

Before her was a scene burned into her memory from only a few short months ago. Where the altar had stood with the Warden's shield and journal, a mighty dragon's head roared in its place. That head was attached to a familiar length of neck and body bearing wicked spines and scaly cabled muscles.

But the dragon did not move. It was frozen in time. This unmoving creature also included a broadsword buried in its skull, and the human form attached was none other than her Grey Warden, exactly as she remembered him.

His handsome face was contorted in a passionate battlecry. Helmet had been tossed aside and his short messy auburn hair was plastered to his head with sweat and blood. The familiar scars on his cheekbones met stubble that continued on down the strong jawline to collect in a light beard and moustache. His armor was slick with blood and gore from the many darkspawn he had singlehandedly cut down during this final battle, but sections of plate were missing to reveal small weaknesses with light scratches and blood spatter.

Leliana wished his eyes were open to confirm his identity with his trademark kind blue irises, but they were shut tight with the exertion of his phantom task. The edges of Fort Drakon flickered, incomplete. Beyond the edges of stone, an otherworldly forest jutted out as though the memory had abruptly ended and the rest of the Fade encroached to reclaim it.

_How did I get here? What do I do now?_ Leliana wished more ardently than ever that Wynne were here. Even Morrigan, who had disappeared during the final battle, would be welcome company in the Fade. Leliana made a few plaintive cries for the temple Guardian, but he did not appear. _He said I had my answer… What does that mean? _

_Maybe—maybe he can only be repaired in the Fade. But how?_

"Well, I'll be a mabari's uncle. Visitors!"

A strange Orlesian voice came from Leliana's left. It was male, but high and singsongy. It put odd emphasis on syllables, as though it had forgotten how to speak properly. Its owner was a short man with unruly hair and rumpled robes. A gnarled wooden staff thumped along in his left hand as the glass baubles and bones attached to the staff's head clinked and swayed.

The man got within 4 meters of Leliana before pausing, seeing her hands resting uneasily on her daggers. He gave her a slanted grin with a mouthful of crooked, yellow teeth. His face was stubbled around low cheekbones and a large brow. He had a lazy air about him to give the impression he was unbothered and unafraid, but his dark brown eyes betrayed his ease by constantly darting. Never resting.

His eyes narrowed on her after a prolonged silence. "It's rude not to greet your king. I'm not picky. A little curtsy would suffice."

Leliana only managed to squeak out a reply, "K-king?"

"You're looking at the King of the Fade, lady," his arms stretched out proudly.

"I've—I've not heard of such a thing. How does one become King of the Fade?"

"You know, I don't know. Because I said so, mostly. Plus I've been here the longest. Longy long time, it's been. No subjects, though. Hard to be a king without subjects. Unless you count demons, because I don't. Hate those things. Couldn't curtsy to save their life, either." His head shook in irritation.

Taken aback by his ramblings, Leliana made a guess. "Are you… a spirit?"

"No, I'm Orlesian," he laughed a little too long and hard at his joke, but lowered his shaking shoulders into a slight bow. "Tiernan, the King of the Fade, at your service."

"I am Leliana," she offered, placing a respectful hand to her chest. Tiernan's eyes twinkled in appreciation. "Were you sent here to help me?"

"Not that I'm aware of, lady. I've been in this part of the Fade for some time now. It's rather thin here, and I was hoping to spot some visitors. Or at least some subjects. Did you come to be my subject?" Tiernan asked hopefully, his lips revealing the jagged teeth once more.

Leliana paused a moment to gauge the situation. If she were disrespectful, the man was likely a mage and might attack. But if she were subservient, she could end up a prisoner. _Tread carefully_, she advised herself.

"I'm sorry, milord, but I am not here to offer my services," she said with a regretful bow. Leliana gestured behind them to the Warden. "I am here for him."

Tiernan frowned, but focused on the scene behind them. He repeated her words in confusion. "'Here for him'? Are you not a dreamer? You do know dreams are just dreams, yes? Dreamers of dreams, dreamers of dreams, dreamy dream dream." He trailed off, but his lips still moved to continue his nonsense.

_He thinks I'm a dreamer. But… if I'm not, and he's not then… what is he?_ "Are you a dreamer, milord Tiernan?"

He scowled bitterly a moment, before recovering cheerfully. "I should think not, milady Leliana. If all dreamers were kings of the Fade, then there'd be no subjects." Unsure of how to respond, Leliana waited for him to continue.

"No," he sighed. "My body has been gone for quite sometime. I went for a stroll in the Fade one night and decided not to go back. The Mage Circle was dreadful boring, anyway. I thought if I kept walking I'd find the Golden City, but the blackness frightened me away. Blackness, demons, nightmares. I can only clean up so much as Kingy King. Found some nice dreamers though. Didn't last long."

The ominous way he said that sent a chill up Leliana's spine. _But surely him being here isn't a coincidence? A mage was one answer to my prayers, yes?_

"I'm sorry to hear that, milord. Could I trouble you and your majestic wisdom to look at something for me?"

Tiernan brightened under her flattery, and followed her outstretched hand the few meters to where the Warden and the Archdemon were locked together.

"Look, lady, it's a Grey Warden."

_Yes, I know_, Leliana thought impatiently. "Yes. He is special to me. And trapped here. Would you happen to know a way to free him?"

Circling the scene, Tiernan stroked his chin and stumped his staff along. After making two circuits of the Warden, he paused before Leliana. "If this isn't just a dream, then how are **you** here?"

Leliana admitted that she didn't know. Chewing on his cheek, Tiernan stuck a hand in his robes and started yanking out a myriad of items. Herbs, trinkets, and papers littered the ground while he searched, before humming triumphantly at finding a small phial. Silver-green liquid sloshed inside.

"Be a dear of a subject and find me some lyrium, could you, pet?" He hunkered down and scooped up one of the discarded items: a small, round, silver tray. It was weathered and aged, but shallow enough to hold some liquid.

Scurrying off into the ever-moving forest, hope quietly purred in Leliana's chest. Her eyes darted constantly, looking for a grouping of crystals that shimmered with light. Finding a suitable cluster, she gathered as much as she could in her arms and returned it to Tiernan, who greedily grabbed it to grind up. The butt of his staff made short work of the delicate formations, and he added the glowing dust to his phial before pouring the mixture into the tray.

He tapped it with his staff and the surface rippled like water. Leliana attempted to step up behind him but he shooed her away.

"May I ask what magicks you are working, master Tiernan?"

Pleased by her deferential tone, he answered matter-of-factly. "Just a little trick us Fade Kings know. Can't go jumping back into the Outside without a body, but we can take little peeks now and then. And with the Veil so thin here, should be just a moment and then… AHA!"

Tiernan suddenly turned on her, baring his yellow teeth. His staff brandished at her threateningly.

"You can't fool me anymore! With your pretty face and your terrible curtsy! Mage Hunter! Have you finally come to kill me?"

Stunned, Leliana held up her hands in innocence. "I do not understand what you mean. Please."

"You want to trap me and turn me into a familiar? Sell me to my enemies? Make a fetching otherworldly perfume? I'm afraid not."

"Please, milord Tiernan," she pleaded, which earned an interested eyebrow raise from the mage. "I have no intention to harm you, nor do I know why you suddenly think I would harm you. I am no mage hunter, just a simple bard from Orlais." The mention of his homeland gave Tiernan pause.

He grabbed the small tray and held it up for her to see, though his staff still extended outward. She took a few cautious steps forward to look into the rippling surface.

She was looking at herself, but not her mirror image. She saw herself back in the Ruined Temple, her body arched forward with her hand on the burning journal and shield. But the flames did not consume her hand, nor did she move. This Leliana was trapped in that moment.

"See? Look. You're a liar and a fake."

"I don't understand what you mean." The mage sighed huffily and tapped the mirror edge impatiently. The view zoomed in to Leliana's belt, where her satchel, dagger hilt and the crystal she had found in Haven sat.

"Do you usually carry around a soul phial, or is today just my birthday? …it could be my birthday… when was that? I haven't gotten any presents in ages. Is it a present for me?" He took a deep breath to continue his ramblings, at which point Leliana jumped in to intervene.

"Soul phial? Is that what that is? I just picked it up in the village from a mage. It seemed like an important memento." She chose to omit that she had actually killed the crystal's owner, seeing how high-strung this particular person was about mage hunters.

"You really are thick, aren't you?" Tiernan savored the insult a moment, before he rolled his eyes and continued, "It's a component for a variety of magicks. Necromancers trap souls to raise undead armies. They're suitable prisons for demons and spirits. So on and so forth. So which are you?"

"What? I'm not any of those. But…" Leliana chewed her lip a moment, thoughtful of his first suggestion. _Trap a soul?_ "I just wanted to fix a broken soul. I hadn't thought about what happened after."

"First thing's first, pet. Can't trap what isn't there. Let's have a look your Fade." Tiernan turned the tray like a magnifying glass upon the scene with the Archdemon. But the details reflected now were far richer than the simple one in front of them.

On the outskirts were visible frozen spirits of Leliana, Wynne and Alistair, though with a curious translucent sheen. Alistair and Leliana were simply faded versions of themselves, but Wynne was glorious. She radiated a warm light and appeared to enveloped by another in an embrace.

"Well, well, a Spirit of Faith. Your mage friend must have made a strong impression in the Fade, because Faith almost never comes out to play. I always want to play but they never do." Tiernan scowled.

Leliana gestured to the Archdemon, and they padded over for a closer look though Tiernan forced Leliana to walk several steps in front of them. "I've never seen a moment in time like this before. Even with a Dreamer. Especially not with an Old One. Just look at that black soul. Hello, you ugly bastard." He waved at the Archdemon before allowing Leliana a glance in the looking glass.

Leliana could now see a black apparition had her Warden by the throat while a second clawed hand reached into his chest to envelope a source of light around his heart. That bit of light was all that remained of the Grey Warden.

_So this is how it happened. This is how he really died. Not from a wound or illness, but from an Old God latching on and strangling his spirit from his very body._

Pointing at the Warden, Leliana started her sales pitch. "That is why I am here. This man was destroyed by that thing. All I want is for his soul to be free and whole."

Tiernan wolfwhistled in incredulity. "Whoa whoa whoa, pet. I don't run a charity."

Leliana pressed more earnestly. "I don't belong here. I'm not a mage. I also didn't get here on my own. I asked the Divine for a request, and she brought me you."

Tiernan chewed on his lip a moment, evaluating the scene once more. He circled the outskirts of the ethereal Fort Drakon, returning to where the other Leliana, Wynne and Alistair stood.

"Well, I suppose there is one thing. But, it's not in our hands to decide." Leliana's heart leapt at his cautious admission, but he held out a hand to silence her readied outpouring of gratitude.

"Don't thank me yet. You see your friend here? With the Spirit of Faith? That's what your Grey Warden needs. Because there's no thread and needle to bond souls back together, especially ones torn to shreds by Old Ones. You'd need a Spirit to fill in the gaps."

"How do we call one?" Leliana's heart fluttered in hopeful excitement, but she was still too afraid to let her mind whisper that eternal jinx:_ this might work._

"You don't." Tiernan rolled his eyes. "Only demons get their kicks meddling with mortals. True Spirits just like to be left alone. Your lady friend here must have been either powerful or interesting enough for Faith to take notice. I bet she's a hell of a Spirit Healer with Faith at the helm, too. Never cared for Spirit Healing myself, Blood Magic was always quicker…" He stopped his thinking aloud when he saw Leliana's crestfallen expression.

"Oh don't be so sad, pet. I mean, your boy here isn't suffering. He's just …nothing. He's not aware of his nothing, so he's fine." Leliana lunged at the mage, striking him in the chest, then swept her leg to knock him flat on his back. Before Tiernan could even blink after hitting the ground, Leliana's dagger was at his throat.

"He. Is. Not. Nothing." Her whisper was ice cold and dripped acid. "He was kind and merciful. He gave up everything, twice, to save Ferelden. His beautiful soul torn to pieces is not 'fine' and you will show him some respect." Tiernan gave a terse, wide-eyed nod. Leliana waited a few seconds to slow the blood pounding in her ears, then sheathed her dagger and helped the mage up.

Tiernan cleared his throat, determined to choose his words more carefully. He cautiously asked, "How did you get here?"

"I told you, I was in the Temple with the Urn of Sacred Ashes and then I was here in the Fade."

"No, I mean, what did you do to get here? People can't just hop into the Fade unless they're mages or Dreamers, and you're neither." He rubbed his throat with resentment.

"I asked Andraste to make him whole again, that was all."

Leliana patiently explained to the mage the details of her journey into the temple through the trials of faith, leading up to her actions with the ashes and her Warden's journal and shield. Tiernan backed away slowly with his hands raised, showing Leliana he meant no harm. He circled the scene again, holding his chin thoughtfully. He jogged back to Leliana with a snap of his finger.

"We could try a summoning circle. But you run the risk of attracting demons."

Leliana was thoughtful. The risk of him returning as a demon would be worse than doing nothing. _But …wait. What did Wynne say about demons?_ "Don't demons crave life in the mortal world? He has no body to possess."

"They won't come for him. They'd want you. Remember, you're trapped here with a nice, and quite attractive, body just waiting to be occupied. Summoning isn't an exact science. There's no way to cherry pick the spirits we want in the Fade. It's just a blanket call to see who's listening. And you'll only attract a good Spirit that was interested in the Warden before he …you know." Tiernan's hand rubbed the sore spot on his chest reflexively as he decided not to be so callous in discussing the Warden's current …condition.

Leliana was thoughtful again, but she needed more information. "Has it succeeded before?"

"Like I said, I don't know. But people do crazy things for love. Just ask Alin'dara."

_Why does that name sound familiar?_ Leliana instead asked, "Who was she?"

Crossing his arms in consternation, Tiernan stared intensely at the Grey Warden and Archdemon's spirit battle. He raised an eyebrow and spoke at Leliana without meeting her gaze.

"Alin'dara. Elvhen Dreamer. Fell for some warrior during one of the Exalted Marches. Her father was an Elvhen general and wouldn't see his daughter running away with a clanless grunt so he sent the man to the front lines to die. Popular lesson in the mage circles in my day. How she refused to leave the Fade until she found her lover in the Beyond. The story goes that she met a Spirit of Hope who offered to guide her, but the only way to the Beyond was by boat. Alin'dara vowed to cry a river of tears so that she could cross the Fade and be reunited with her lover."

_It's …true?_ "I know that tale," Leliana said slowly. "It is a little different from the way I've heard it, though."

He shrugged. "You know bards. Love tweaking the details to make things more epic and dramatic. But it was always one of my favorites."

Leliana murmured softly, "Mine too."

Tiernan turned and a sympathetic smile pulled at his mouth. "What have you got to lose? Unless you've got a river of tears handy."

* * *

><p><strong>Ren's Note:<strong>

_I tried to make this Fade as plausibly faithful to the game as I could, stealing elements from different parts of the games. I liked the idea of Niall and Mouse during Origins and latched on to the idea of other mages trapped in the Fade. Plus Merrill in DA2 was such a delight I wanted to channel some of her bubbly rambling into this original character. A man trapped in the Fade for centuries probably has a few screws loose._


	9. Chapter 9: Call Back

Tasked with collecting as many lyrium veins as she could, Leliana approached the Fade forest with trepidation. Seeing herself trapped back in the Temple of Andraste had her wondering just what the difference in time was between the dream world and the real one. Had she been here seconds? Minutes? Hours?

_What would happen to me… the other me… if I were trapped in this place? Would I be released from that moment to have my hands and clothes consumed by flame? Would I end up a skeletal warning like that poor traveler at the foot of the stairs before Andraste's ashes?_ She shook her head to push those dark thoughts away.

The mundane work was uneventful at least. Tiernan, the self-appointed King of the Fade, assured her he'd been in this forest many times and no evil lurked nearby. He trailed off into incoherent muttering about a demon that knew his name, but triumphantly declared he'd defeated the beast many times with little problem.

After her fourth collection of glowing white crystals, Leliana stopped back in front of her Warden's eternal battle. Again, she reached out a hand to stroke his cheek, but again her fingertips sank into the mirage. There wasn't any sensation or give; he simply wasn't there.

_That's not true. Somewhere, he's here. I found him. He just needs to come home. _This encouragement sent her back into the forest with her daggers twirling, ready to face any enemy that stood between her and the task at hand. Other than an unsettling feeling that eyes followed wherever she went, Leliana recovered a seventh batch of lyrium to deposit at Tiernan's feet.

The Orlesian mage had been pestering Leliana with incessant questions about the outside world while he converted Leliana's lyrium crystals into a usable powder and arranged a circle of runes. He wanted to know the year, month, hour, events of note, which countries were in power, how mages were treated, how Thedas fared, everything.

Every question of "Why?" from Leliana was met with a cryptic "Kings should know these things, yea?" from Tiernan. His shifty eyes indicated he wasn't being forthright, but Leliana couldn't glean what he was being dishonest about. He was simply a curious, frustrating man that she was eager to get away from.

Finally, the fruits of their labors started to emerge: angular shaped runes painted in chalky powder formed an overlapping set of circles near the Warden and Archdemon. Some were even …familiar.

* * *

><p><em>Imperial Highway 12:5, 9:30 Dragon<br>Nightmares of my imprisonment at Circle Tower continue to haunt me, along with dark portents of the Blight. It does make me wonder though… If I was trapped in the Fade, and these are nightmares of the Fade, am I in fact returning to that place? Or is it a memory within a memory?_

_Morrigan assisted me this evening in sketching the runes I recall seeing at the portal entrances within Circle Tower. The return of her mother's grimoire has endeared Morrigan to me some, for she even allowed me a peek at the tome so that my illustrations of magical locks and portals in the Fade were accurate. I know not what use they may have some day, but one should not turn down a gift from the spirits._

_[Margins contain heavy brushstrokes of ten symbols with tentative labels]_

_I admit I have found some comfort in Morrigan's oddly soothing countenance. She surprises me with flashes of almost-tenderness, though they are often quickly masked by a sharp word or rebuke. The woman confounds me, as does her disdain for my desire to help the Fereldans we encounter. I enjoy conversing with her, but I find myself retreating from her suggestive glances and fleeting fingertips on my arms. _

_It is thoughts like this that have me pacing the communal fire rather than resting up for my turn at the watch. We are still continuing preparations for a long journey into the Deep Roads. The dwarves' civil war coupled with an array of miscellaneous tasks from their squabbling nobility is straining my patience of late. _

_There is still so much to do, and we are so few. But I am strengthened by our companions' faith in me, however naïve it might be. The bard in particular is so free and generous with her praise. She is such a different person than Morrigan that a consecutive conversation with either woman sends me scurrying to a lecture from Wynne just so that my head might return to its proper position, rather than spun completely around._

_Whereas Morrigan is calculating and decisive, Leliana is compassionate and guileless. She rejoices in my frivolous delays as extra fodder for the epic ballad that is our journey and accepts my decisions, though in a gentle but not placating way. _

_Leliana is a peculiar creature... an illusion that begs one to cradle and protect her, but in battle her arrows rarely miss and her cheerful execution of wicked enemies is an everyday occurrence. Morrigan baffles me with her fickle animal nature, while Leliana is a warm but chilling contradiction. _

…_why am I devoting so much of this entry to comparing two companions? Not even a month has passed since I vowed to leave my Highever ways to history, and already I am sizing up my comrades in arms for my bed. _

_Maker forgive me. You would think I'd never allowed months to pass between bedfellows, that I'm a slave to my impulses. Thankfully, I have not voiced these ridiculous thoughts aloud to anyone, even Alistair. If anyone is the embodiment of self-control, it is my Warden-brother Alistair. I could stand to follow his example more closely… though certainly not his cooking technique. I already see Sten and Wynne grimacing when they are offered a bowl of my partridge stew._

_Alas, the night is so long and still. I dare not wish for some action or calamity to break up my restless doldrums, because with my luck the Maker might just grant it._

_I also just discovered Leliana asleep at the watch. I was tempted to wake her, but there is something delicate and innocent about her resting form. She has the look of one wrapped in a peaceful dream, and it seems cruel to deny another such happiness only because my nights are riddled with nightmare. Wynne has spoken to me often about Wardens as guardians of men, and I confess I take some pride in now being a watcher of the watchful... Even if the watchful is currently asleep at the helm._

_I wonder if I have any extra parchment…_

* * *

><p>Running a broken tree branch along the dusty forest floor, Leliana doodled some of the symbols she remembered from the Grey Warden's journal, though only three of the ten stood out. The idle past time was comforting, though her mind had taken to a rhythmic chanting of "Please please please" since Tiernan agreed to assist her. It grew more and more insistent with each moment of delay.<p>

"Oh ho! Come look, pet!" Tiernan's singsongy voice rang out. He sprinkled the last of the lyrium dust and nodded his head in satisfaction. Leliana joined him to review their creation.

Admittedly, Leliana was underwhelmed. She didn't understand how these circles, shapes and scratches could be a beacon to the Fade for spirits, but she had the good sense not to voice these concerns aloud. Especially since Tiernan looked so pleased with himself.

"Isn't she beautiful? No spirit alive can resist these runes… although… spirits aren't really alive, yea? No spirit dead? No spirit undead? No spirit…" The mage trailed off into gibberish again. He did that a lot.

"Are we ready? What else can I do to help?" Leliana pressed eagerly. Tiernan pulled himself out of his rambling to favor her with a jagged grin, but then his face was serious once more.

"Summoning is complicated. I need complete silence. Please stand in the center, for your living essence will serve as the beacon." Tiernan hitched up his sleeves and his clawed fingers formed a teepee. He stood in pensive prayer to gather his thoughts while Leliana waited expectantly.

"Oh, by the way, if you see any demons or wraiths: could you be a pet and slay them for me? I don't want them touching my stuff."

"What?!" Leliana sputtered in surprise before Tiernan shushed her. His eyes closed, the mage began chanting a series of arcane words in a monotone while his hands followed in an intricate dance.

_Demons and wraiths? Am I allowed to move, then? _Leliana wondered with irritation as she freed her daggers from their sheaths. She felt silly standing around just waiting for an enemy to pounce, so she began rotating on the spot to ensure adequate line of sight. _The Fade forest is so thick in places… I wouldn't see anything coming until it was nearly on top of me. There is no wind, no noise, no way to be the hunter rather than the hunted._

It took about twelve minutes (_could it be longer? I do not understand how time flows here)_ of incantation before the first rune began to glow with a sparkling orange. The ground lit up with a narrow beam of light, and within the glow seemed to be twisting threads of gold. Satisfied, Tiernan moved directly across the circle to the second symbol and his chanting started anew.

Shadows shifted ominously in the north side of the forest about halfway through this rune. Crackles and sniffs could be heard deep within the trees as predators caught wind of prey. With a high, layered shriek, a black and silver wraith charged into the clearing straight for Tiernan. The mage was too absorbed in his task to react, but Leliana was at his back in a second to intercept.

Daggers whirling, Leliana sliced at outstretching fingers. The wraith shrieked once more and was joined by another, who both turned on the bard. The cloaked monsters were no match for Leliana's skill buoyed by precious hope. Claws swiped at a woman who spun and danced just out of reach, somehow always appearing at their backs. Her curved knife sank into the last of their soft flesh before they faded into the earth.

This process repeated about four times, always with the same result. The wraiths never appeared from the same place twice, but instead seemed drawn from all parts of the Fade by the intoxicating magic. Tiernan did not interrupt his work even to acknowledge Leliana's masterful defense. He was absorbed in the routine: crouching over a rune, reciting his arcane phrasing, weaving his fingers in ardent pleas, then moving across the circle to the next scratch in the dirt.

The final rune was a particularly intense battle. The Fade, now keenly aware of their presence, was hungry to claim them. Two and three wraiths trickled in from the foliage even before Tiernan started his reciting, and the beasts didn't let up for more than a few seconds the entire time. Leliana was so pressed for maneuvering that she had taken to running laps around the entire summoning circle, harassing with jabs rather than slaying with thrusts.

She wheezed as she unleashed a flurry of acrobatics. Flips, tumbles, dives, and jumps kept the eight to ten creatures confused and tumbling into one another. The chaos allowed Leliana to take down two wraiths at a time with precision stabs before moving on to the next pair. Only one particularly feisty wraith remained just as Tiernan finished the last of his spell.

A bolt of lightning from the mage's staff reduced the beast to ashes. "You're **welcome**, pet. Do I have to do everything myself?" Tiernan scolded with a shake of his head, oblivious to Leliana's disheveled appearance and the pile of cloaked corpses surrounding the clearing.

"Thank goodness you finished, milord," she sputtered. Sheathing her daggers, Leliana strolled up to the Warden and dragon. She reached for his cheek once more, but only empty air met her hand. Crestfallen, Leliana turned back to Tiernan. "Did it not work?"

"What?" The mage was rummaging back in his cloak before looking up. He started to laugh maniacally. "You mean, you thought that was it? Sweet Maker, pet. Never go into mage hunting. Or at least pretend to not be so ignorant if you do. They'll laugh you right out of the mage hunter guild. ...Is it a guild? Maybe a brotherhood? A union? A herd?" Leliana had to clear her throat to curb his snide rambling.

He tapped the butt of his staff to the ground. "That was just activating the circle, pet. Those rabid dogs couldn't care less about us, they just wanted to feast on our lyrium. If you want to summon a wraith, just throw a rock. Stupid parasites, is all."

Pulling out a small weathered tome, Tiernan stroked the spine lovingly. "**This** is the main event. It's a modification of a spell that Mage Circles use to summon apprentices and Dreamers who get lost, since summoning demons or spirits is a capital offense. Usually done with a group though. Harder when you're solo, but you've got the King of the Fade here." He grinned smugly.

"So you've done this before?" Leliana asked cautiously. Tiernan's cheeked twitched, but he answered jovially, "Once, awhile back. Found a nice lower level spirit to talk to. Spirit of Charity or Laughter or Wearing Comfortable Shoes or something."

"What happened to it?"

Again, that twitch of the cheek. "Oh, we talked for awhile. Then it didn't want to play anymore."

Leliana was about to ask what that meant, but Tiernan gestured impatiently. "Look, do you want to do this or not? I have plenty better things to do than help pretty, albeit stupid, ladies with their courting problems." Bristling, she courteously extended a hand to indicate to please continue.

Tiernan took up his place in the center and thumbed through his book until arriving at the correct page. Other than mumbling to stay out of the way, Leliana had no instruction or expectation. She drew her daggers once more and prowled the clearing just in case.

Rather than his fingers, Tiernan's staff was the catalyst for this spell. The language was vaguely Tevinter, for Leliana caught a few errant phrases like "Control" and "Implore" and "Afterlife." The staff in his fingers nimbly spun and danced, spitting sparks and light. The runes surrounding him alternately radiated light and swallowed it. It was almost like he was an orchestra conductor, signaling which rune instruments were to activate at which times.

Leliana started to feel a little lightheaded, though she didn't know if it was caused by the ritual or some external force. She was starting to hear whispers, familiar ones. Alarm set her teeth on edge, for she recognized one as the sultry alto of a desire demon. Another was a garbled baritone of Sloth. They were probing the Fade for her consciousness. She could feel them tasting her mind for temptation to implant, seeking the best way to gain a foothold in her sins.

Praying to the Maker for protection, Leliana stayed close to Tiernan. The circles began to glow and strobe in rapid succession, responsive to the mage's masterful incantation. Since he hadn't forbidden her from speaking this time, she chanced a question. "How will you know if it's working?"

Tiernan's brow furrowed at her interruption, but he did grace her with a response. "It is a matter of repeating the same call over and over again, like a parent calling for a lost child. The child may choose to respond, or continue to hide under the bed. Eating sweets. And not sharing those delicious sweets, no matter how nice you might ask." He started the Tevinter spell over again, though sweat began to bead at his temples.

The dark whispers were getting louder and hungrier. She even thought she heard one calling for Tiernan, though most were chanting "Leliana" in an ominous harmony. Steeling herself, Leliana wished for a bow and arrow. Suddenly, she felt a weight at her back. She fearfully spun on her heels to engage an enemy.

But no one was there.

Reaching around her shoulders, Leliana felt smooth curved wood and the feathered fletching of a full quiver. _Right. I'm in a dream. Wishes come true in dreams. _Drawing the new bow with a fresh arrow, Leliana chanced a look at the Grey Warden. _...wishes come true..._

A gangly abomination trudged out of the forest to her right. Its face was partially held together with leather strapping while its shoulders were lumpy and misshapen. The entire thing was scaly and ugly, though dressed in a battle skirt and bearing a massive broadsword. _Hunger._

The demon grinned menacingly at Leliana and hefted its sword. Lust and pangs of hunger hit her in the chest and gut, seeking to paralyze her with two emotions she'd been suppressing for quite sometime. Voices in her head cried out to fulfill these base needs. One moment the hunger demon was a servant carrying a tray of rich Orlesian lamb stew, the next it shimmered to be a naked Warden beckoning her with eager fingers. Memories of her decadent life as a bard mixed with the Warden's sweet nothings in their shared tent paralyzed her.

Suddenly Leliana felt a surge of electricity hit her back. She nearly bit her tongue in half as the current rattled her bones. Tasting blood, she spun to see Tiernan's staff pointed at her. His expression was a withering eye roll. "...**really**, pet?! One hunger demon and you're ready to call it quits? I weep for the future." He gestured in annoyance to take care of the pest.

She turned back to see the creature charging with broadsword raised. It was bolstered by the fury that its glamour was broken so quickly. An arrow struck a bulging yellow eye while another sank into its chest. The sword swung down prematurely as the demon toppled head first to the ground and lay still.

Her tongue throbbed in her mouth, but the pain mixed with the bitter taste of blood kept Leliana focused on her surroundings rather than inside her head. Desire and Rage attempted an intervention later, but the scantily clad temptress was easily slain while Rage's speed required daggers up close to defeat.

Then nothing. No demons broke the sanctity of the circle, but no spirits either. Tiernan repeated the call nearly a dozen more times before there was any sign of movement again. His voice was growing hoarse with his recitation, but he was dedicated.

A glimmer of light appeared in the trees this time. And rather than a dark whisper, Leliana felt a warmth in her mind. It was comfort and safety, a gentle hand on her shoulder. A vaguely female shape shifted and morphed in the glowing orb. There were no definable facial features, but there was a motherly aura about it.

But Tiernan did not seem to notice. When the glow came closer, Leliana touched his shoulder. Briefly irritated, the mage's face quickly broke into a grin when he saw where she pointed.

"Is that—did it work?"

"We found one, pet. Or, rather, one found us."

Leliana sighed deeply with relief. She sheathed her daggers and brought clasped hands to her lips in grateful prayer. "Do you know what spirit it is? I feel so... comforted. It is like sitting in front of a warm fire on a cold winter's day."

Tiernan flipped through his book and seemed to skim a series of short paragraphs. Leliana spied descriptions of known Fade spirits, but the pages were flipping too quickly for her to read in detail. He rested his staff in the crook of an elbow in order to tap one entry in satisfaction. "I do believe we're looking at a Spirit of Compassion. Very powerful. And very hard to find."

The Spirit softly flitted over to where the Archdemon held the Grey Warden in silence. It tenderly stroked his cheek in the same way Leliana had. Tiernan continued thoughtfully, "Mercy is a sister of Faith. It's possible she went looking for your mage friend at one point then found your Warden. He must have been quite virtuous to gain her notice." Leliana caught a slight note of contempt in the mage's voice.

Before she could probe him for answers, he pointed his staff at the Spirit and uttered a rapidfire set of syllables. Suddenly, a Crushing Prison encased Mercy in glowing white bars. Shocked, Leliana drew her daggers but Tiernan was ready this time. He clocked her in the chin with the butt of his staff and used her brief disorientation to encase her in a Crushing Prison as well.

"I know you've got a million questions, pet, but I simply don't have the time or care."

"What—why—?" He shushed her and the cell grew tighter. "What did I just say?"

He slammed his book closed and pocketed it once more. Tiernan swept his hands over several of the circle's runes and redrew new symbols in the lyrium. The orange and gold runes shifted to a blood-red hue with dancing blue flames. Compassion's prison floated over to rest in the center of the runes.

"I'm sorry, pet, but I can't stand being here any longer. I'm making you an honorary queen of the Fade if it makes you feel any better. It's not so bad here, really." His voice had genuine regret, but there was a playful glimmer in his eyes.

"What are you going to do?"

He sighed and the prison grew tighter. "It's nothing personal, pet. You have a body. I don't. So I'm going to take yours. The nice juicy Spirit your Warden lured is full of tasty spiritual energy, and with a spot of blood magic I'll be back in the real world.

"Thanks for the laughs, though. I'll take great care of you."

* * *

><p><strong>Ren's Note:<strong>

_Dun dun dunnnn. _

_Okay, so the Warden's journal mention* is kind of a throwback to DA: Reminiscent, I guess the equivalent of a comic book having a line of dialogue with an asterisk then going "See issue #182!" Don't you hate those? Me too. …which is why I'm doing it—I'M SORRY I SUCK._

_*See Entries 3 and 4 of DA: Reminiscent! Also the illustrated cover for this fic! _


	10. Chapter 10: Reversal

_What do I do? What do I do? What do I do? _

Leliana's mind raced which caused her to do stupid, pointless things. She rattled the bars on her cage. She paced. She swore at Tiernan in Orlesian. Demanded he release her. Pleaded with him not to do this. _Please, please don't do this._

The only result from her labors was a shrinking of her prison and annoyed shushing from her captor. Tiernan was completely disinterested in her struggling and continued his dark ritual with renewed focus.

Stabbing his staff into the ground, Tiernan hefted his tome to find the right passage. Even from a distance, Leliana spied a heavily edited page with a crude drawing of the rune circle around them. The mage pulled a few dried herbs from pockets deep in his robes and proceeded to grind them up alongside the lyrium powder. His murmuring was inaudible to Leliana, but his intentions were clear.

Dug in the dirt amidst the blood red runes was a crude drawing of herself. Ominous symbols surrounded the sketch like chains, eager to tighten and bind the body of a bard to a mage intruder.

Leliana wasn't going to go down without a fight. Drawing an arrow from her quiver, she aimed for Tiernan's back with minor regret. That regret evaporated when the arrow ricocheted off a white barrier followed by the mage's scoff.

"**Please**, pet. Your lack of imagination is p-p-p-palpable," he stuttered in his singsong way. "I've lived in the Fade longer than you've been alive, and no dreamer-made fantasy can get the drop on me. Just be still. I don't want to hurt you and I don't have to if you stay still."

_Oh, well if you __**say**__ you don't want to harm me, I'll just sit still like a good girl and let a slimy blood mage possess me and leave me trapped here, _Leliana glowered.

She inhaled suddenly with an epiphany. _The Fade plays by the rules of runes. What if—?_ Unsheathing her daggers, she searched her memory for that page of the Warden's journal. _Please, Holy Maker, let one of these be a key for this lock._

She attempted a few futile cuts at the bars, mostly as a desperate show for Tiernan. He smirked at her efforts and reiterated it was, indeed, hopeless. Satisfied he was engrossed in setting up his ritual, Leliana dropped to one knee. The Crushing Prison, which had shrank a little more, did not seem to extend quite to the ground. But when she tested a stabbing thrust into the Earth, Leliana heard the dull _clunk_ of metal striking metal.

_No matter, I don't need to dig my way out._

Trial and error was her only hope now. The first symbol she recalled, "Mik'sel," was an H-shape with a small dot below. "Frisd'l" was an inverted triangle with a line through the center, but neither so far seemed to yield any result. The repeating refrain of "Please" grew louder and more insistent as Leliana tried sketching a third and fourth symbol. The curved lines, dots and lightning bolt of "Od'sik" followed "Huq'jyn's" bulbous circle surrounded by a curved arrowhead.

Still nothing.

_Please_.

The bat-like "Erybak" sparked a small fire, but not a large enough one to make a dent in the Prison.

_Please._

Leliana was running out of memories. She dug a few random lines in the hopes of kindling a flashback, but her mind was stubbornly blank. _Please. Don't let it end like this. And I'll still be alone._

Rather than being burdened by despair, she felt strangely rejuvenated. Or at the very least too stubborn to give up. She chastised herself to think harder. The bars obscuring her view pushed the anger deeper, but what's more, they were pushing something else to the surface. Rummaging around in her things, Leliana was relieved that this dream (_nightmare!_) equipped her with some of the items she'd had in the real world.

Namely, a small sketch of herself done by the Grey Warden. The brush strokes seemed more refined in this rose-tinted facsimile, but it was the back she focused upon. She recalled that in the bottom corner were several test drawings he'd done of Morrigan's runes.

_Please._

Several of the ones Leliana had already tried shimmered into existence, but another one joined them. Three wavy lines with one bold stroke through the middle. Like cutting through bars.

_Uf'dal._

Scratching the symbol beneath her, Leliana prayed fervently to the Maker for freedom before swiping the final line through the rune. A burst of light erupted from the ground and struck the prison cell, causing it to evaporate in a shower of lyrium dust.

Not waiting for Tiernan's reaction, Leliana spun on her heel away from him and sprinted for the thick Fade forest. She was at the tree line before she heard the mage's squawk of anger. A bolt of lighting stung a tree trunk at her elbow as the nimble bard weaved her way through the trees.

"Pet. Pet! Don't make me kill you. If you show your face I **will** be forced to kill you. Just stay in the forest like a good pet while I finish this up." There was a pregnant pause before he cruelly taunted, "At least your stupid Warden won't have to watch you fail. He's gone. A nothing. Food for an Old One. Thanks for the Spirit though. Couldn't have done it without him."

She wanted to shove a dagger in his throat. Rip out those ugly, jagged teeth. One. By. One.

Leliana jogged for about 10 minutes before feeling satisfied Tiernan had no interest in following her. She also needed time to let her rage subside so her calm, collected bard training could take over and evaluate the situation.

_I cannot face him head on, for his magic would overpower me. Arrows and projectiles are out because of his infernal barrier. Could I sneak up behind him for a surprise attack?_

Sketching out a schematic of what she remembered from the clearing, Leliana decided on attempting to scout the area before brashly facing the mage again. She made an X at the northwest edge as a satisfactory point of return, then began the trek back. This time, however, she did not noisily run but crept soundlessly so the 10 minute distance easily extended to 25 and 30.

Leliana reached her vantage point just as Tiernan shouted a satisfied "Aha!" She dropped to the ground, fearful he'd spotted her, but he seemed to be engaged in a deep conversation.

With himself.

"Last one! I just love the smell of lyrium in the morning. ...was I too hard on the pet? She **did** give me a nice stout body. I should get her a present. But then again, she didn't want to give me the soul phial as a birthday present. That's just rude. Rudey rude rude. Rude rudey rude rude."

Peeking through the underbrush, Leliana could see Tiernan working on the last unlit rune surrounding the caged Spirit of Compassion. _I don't have much time. _She crawled on her belly to gauge a good infiltration point, but her blood chilled at Tiernan's rambling monologue.

"I **am** sorry, sweet Mercy. You're such a pretty girl. Prettier than the last one. I wish I didn't need you for this. It was so easy the first few times." The mage thumped his staff against the ground in agitation. "I read everything I was supposed to. I found that grimoire of Flemeth's! They took it from me and sent it away! The lazy enchanters and their high and mighty attitude. 'Oh Tiernan, you don't understand what you're doing!' If I didn't understand, how come I was the first to do it right?"

He trailed off saying "Righty right right" over and over as his hands weaved over the lyrium design at his feet. "The First Enchanter was older than I thought. His body was so creaky. Creak creak creak went his bones. I didn't want to stay in there. The little boy on the road to Antiva was too young. No one took us seriously! And his dreams were so silly and colorful. Dreamy dreams of poor subjects."

Tiernan's growl halted his intricate hand motions. "They kept kicking me out! And the one that finally stuck, got hit by a carriage after only a week! Thedans these days… are they just soft? They seem soft. But they're so hard to get into now, without help. Without a **lot** of help.

"It used to be 'find a dreamy dreamer, jump in, profit.' Is it because they're soft? The pet doesn't seem so soft, even though she's a lady. I think she's a keeper, don't you, Mercy? Of course you do." He grinned in satisfaction and resumed his incantation.

_Yes, I am a keeper. But not for you_, Leliana scowled to herself. The revelation that Tiernan is a serial body stealer was unnerving though. It explained his paranoia and his skill with blood magic. _He will not be an easy foe to defeat, even with a surprise assault_. A stealthy circuit around the clearing revealed as much.

Not knowing what a ritual entailed to possess a human body, Leliana couldn't plan for Tiernan to drop his guard. The summoning circle required a great deal of movement combined with concentration, and if a possession circle was anything similar she would be hard pressed to get an opening before he was on the attack. Then she would just end up imprisoned again.

_What else? What else what else what else?_ She stopped herself before she slipped into the mage's chanting insanity. _Is this what time in the Fade does to people who aren't dreaming? How long before I'm as crazy as Tiernan? _Leliana shook her head to push that thought away. One problem at a time.

Suddenly, a shriek cut the air. Out of the brush to Leliana's left, an ash wraith careened toward the blood mage. Tiernan's staff swung to intercept its waiting claws, and a timid bolt of lightning struck the creature. He growled in dismay. "No! Bad wraith! I don't have lyrium to waste on you! Tell your friends to eat the soft, soft bard in the forest." A curved ceremonial dagger appeared from an inner robe pocket and plunged into the wraith's eye.

_It's much more difficult when I'm not there to run interference, hmm?_ Leliana mused bitterly. But the thought kindled an idea when she felt dark whispers in her mind once more. Sloth had returned, promising an easy life just for submitting to comfort. A fresh Rage was also nearby, agitated and growling with a thirst for revenge. _Only too tempting, given the circumstances._

Unfortunately, their refrain grew louder to the point where they were no longer just inside Leliana's head. "Leliana" was alternately whispered and shouted throughout the forest, which caused a wrinkle in her scouting. Tiernan kept looking up and muttering, his darting eyes scanning the tree line for her presence. His vigilance would make a surprise attack nearly impossible.

Resigned, Leliana dragged herself back a safe distance before shoving her palms to the earth and propelling her body upright. The murmur of her name had grown louder and more urgent, but underneath it all, she could hear a different whisper.

"Tier. Nan."

While seeking out the whisper's owner was not an appealing prospect, Leliana was out of options. She readied her bow and chose a southeastern route. There was no stealth this time, no time to waste being subtle or sneaky. Several wraiths found her thrashing quite tempting, and shrieked with glee at the prospect of getting a taste of her.

Leliana loosed one arrow into a gaping maw but refused to stop running. She had to swipe the shaft of her bow at the second hungry wraith to knock it back, then fling one of her daggers into its throat. _I don't have time for this._

…_or else I'll have all the time in the world for this._

"Tiernan."

It came from her right. A deep, raspy, intrigued voice.

"You. Are not Tiernan. But you smell like him."

The shadows were dense and deep and mixed with the trees. Leliana skidded to a halt and sighted her arrowhead in the center of the dark mass. Her heart pounded in her chest and a haze settled in her mind. It was an attractive veil, promising impossible things.

_Faith. The Divine of the Chantry. All of Thedas' clerics looking to you._

_Power. The Grey Warden on the throne of Ferelden with you as his queen._

_Love. Pure and true. An eternity of passion at the side of your equal. Your hero. Your mate._

"You bore me," the shadow croaked. "I see your insipid dreams in the Fade every day."

Surging forward, an ugly writhing mass of muscle reached for Leliana's throat. Her hands jerked upward in defense so instead of being restrained, she was knocked backwards off her feet. Looming above her was horror incarnate.

Its face was a jagged mess of teeth over a scrunched scaly face. Wicked spines jutted outward from the monster's wrists all the way to its back, progressing in size and thickness. The only vaguely humanoid features were it stood erect on two legs and had two hands, though both were overlarge and clawed. Wide set, glowing red eyes appraised Leliana with disdain.

_Pride demon._

"Of course you know me. I know you. Your sins. Your failings. I can make it all better. I can elevate you beyond your wildest dreams." The lizard lips peeled back in a malevolent grin, but Pride's expression hardened.

"But first. Where is Tiernan? He is long overdue. He… owes a great debt. And all debts must be paid."

Leliana had to lick her lips to unglue her tongue from the roof of her mouth. "What he did he do to anger you so?"

Pride's hand flung upward with dismissal. "He thinks he can kill me. He's tried more than a few times. I don't fancy being killed." The beady eyes examined its fingernails in a haughty fashion. "The blood mage thinks he can take and take from the Fade with no consequence. That he can be immortal. That he can summon me and I won't take what's mine."

Attempting to shuffle backward, Leliana stopped when Pride snapped its jaws at her in warning. She took a deep breath. "I can take you to him. Distract him. Return him to you. All I ask is to be left alone. You get what you want, I get what I want." She hated the idea of making a deal with a demon. It had no reason to keep its promise.

_Do I just trade one monster trying to possess me for another?_

"At least you're smart, for a stupid fleshling," Pride acknowledged. It scratched a claw along its neckless chin thoughtfully.

"I accept. Take me to the King of the Fade. Even kings have debts to pay."

She did not take the creature's offered hand to be helped up. Leliana studied her surroundings, then pointed northwest. Traveling together with a demon was unsettling, for the whispers in her mind did not cease. They also came across Sloth, who glared in reproach when Pride held up a warning hand. Pride's rank in the demonic hierarchy forced his lesser brethren to bow to his will.

The thick trees thinned enough to reveal the clearing once more. The ritual was in full swing. Tiernan stood in the center ring, his curved dagger raised above him. Mercy was bouncing in agitation in the white Crushing Prison, unwilling to be sacrificed without a fight.

Leliana nodded behind her at Pride, who huffed in glee and took off in the forest to come up behind its blood mage prey. Taking a deep breath, Leliana prayed to Andraste. To guide her hand. To protect Her spirits. To save herself.

For herself. _And the Grey Warden._

Leliana pulled an arrow from her quiver, drew it taut to her chest, and aimed for Tiernan's head.

And let go.

* * *

><p><strong>Ren's Note:<strong>

_I consulted the DA wiki for the Fade: Lost in Dreams portion of the Broken Circle quest line to describe the rune symbols Leliana drew. I don't know their names or purpose so I just made something up to give some relevancy to this whole shebang. I try to do research as much as possible, but some things are fun to stretch.  
><em>


	11. Chapter 11: Hunted

Leliana's arrow faintly whistled as it arched toward its target. Tiernan's eyes were closed while his chanting reached an ominous crescendo. His dagger hand started to swing downward, but it jerked back when her arrow struck the magic barrier protecting him.

The mage's expression was angry and frantic. When he moved to bring the dagger down on the caged Spirit of Compassion once more, a released arrow from Leliana again sent him stumbling backward.

But without injury. Neither arrow could reach their target through that damn shield. And the mage knew it. Tiernan glared hatefully at Leliana in the distance.

"What—what—what do you think you're doing, pet? Having a little fun at the end? Saying goodbye? That's sweet. You could just send a note. I like notes. Presents are better, but notes are still pretty good." Those jagged teeth grinned malevolently.

"I'm giving you the gift of opportunity," Leliana said sternly in a voice usually reserved for scolding children who misbehave during evening prayer at the Chantry. Her bowstring was already pulled taut with a fresh arrow just in case talking immediately switched to fighting. "If you depart now, we can go our separate ways. Je ne t'en veux pas."

His eyebrow raised at her Orlesian reassurance. "'No hard feelings?' I most certainly will not have **soft** feelings if I'm stuck in this place again. …Look, pet. I've been looking for this Spirit a long time. Longer than you. She teased me with little glimmers over the past couple months. I tracked her all over the Fade, and now she's mine. I called dibs."

Leliana took a threatening step forward, and held up one finger from her hand clasped around her bow. _This discussion is not over._ It was a weak accusatory point, but she couldn't sacrifice battlefield advantage for hand gestures. "You cannot claim a life as property. That is not honorable for one alleging he is King."

Tiernan slid the dagger back into his pocket and gripped his staff with both hands. He turned it about to point at Leliana, shaking the bones and baubles at the tip with reproach. "Ah-ha! I call hypocrisy, little pet! You're the one who was trying to steal my things. And for what? To fix that blob of light you think is a person over there?" He gestured dismissively at the Warden locked in combat with the Archdemon. "No. No no no. …No. Finders keepers."

"Please. Milord." Leliana wanted to ask for more, say more, but she was tired. And she just didn't care anymore. Her bow creaked lightly in readiness. Tiernan smirked.

Before she let loose another arrow, Leliana's eyes flicked perceptively behind Tiernan, which he noticed with a sneer. "I am not so easily distracted, pet. Or did you think I would just turn around and show you my backside with a target painted upon it?"

"There is no richer target, fleshling," came the ominous reply. Tiernan's eyes flashed wide in terror as the Pride demon barreled down on him from the forest edge.

The mage darted to the side, narrowly missing a tackle from Pride. "No! I killed you! How many times do I have to kill you?!" He sent sharp icicles at the hulking demon, but the beast swatted them away effortlessly. "You cannot kill what resides within you, Tiernan. I gave you dominion in the Fade, a lofty ambition. And you have squandered it, like all mortals do."

Leliana trained her arrowhead on the tumbling forms, but couldn't get a clear shot on either foe. The demon's hands lurched upward, as though lifting a great invisible weight. Fire erupted beneath Tiernan, forcing him to dive forward unsteadily. A flinging motion from the mage sent a wave of green smoke at Pride, briefly disorienting it.

Staff weaving, Tiernan backed away from the beast and shouted at Leliana behind him. "Pet! Milady! Assist me in slaying this foul demon and I will help you! I mean, I got you this far, didn't I? And not even a thank you! Come now, for the Grey Warden, yea?" His words had a desperate edge.

_No where in there did I hear an apology,_ the bard thought coldly. Evoking the Warden set Leliana's teeth to grinding.

Pride lurched unsteadily but recovered. The demon's shoulders rolled and its neck cracked with an air of readiness. "The fleshling cannot keep a promise to itself, let alone another mortal. Do you know what 'Tiernan' translates to in the demon tongue? 'Bad water.' The mage is a sickness, an infection. He spreads disease to all he touches. He is rotten meat." The Pride demon pointed a clawed finger at the mage in reproach.

"You have something of mine. A promise. You were to deliver an offering when I gave you the tools to leave the Fade. That was nigh a century ago, and still you fail. Your greed is all consuming, but still you believe you are above death. I have come to deliver the message: this is not so."

The mage pleaded for Leliana's assistance once more before the demon charged. Tiernan's staff spun and jerked to block attacks both magical and physical: tongues of fire rained from above as claws swiped and raked from below. And still Leliana did not interrupt. She had no desire to take either side in this fight.

Unfortunately, the mage had spent most of his energy and lyrium reserves on his summoning circle and blood magic ritual. His spells fizzled even on direct hits, which bolstered the demon's gleeful attitude. With a swift jab, Pride pushed past Tiernan's magical barrier and seized the mage by the throat. Kicking and spitting, Tiernan shrieked that this was no way to treat a king.

"Know that you died master of nothing and king of no one. All you ever had was flesh, and flesh is to be consumed by the worthy," Pride growled as its mighty jaws sank into Tiernan's belly. The mage struggled harder, throwing his elbows into the beast's cheeks. His pleas gurgled and grew faint.

_This is not a clean death,_ Leliana realized with a start. _This is no hunt, this is slaughter. Even that monster of a man does not deserve such a fate._

Adjusting her sight, Leliana aimed her arrow where Tiernan's heart would be. _Let's hope he still has one after all this time._ She prayed for the Maker to guide her hand. To be merciful even in the darkness. And let loose.

Tiernan's body twitched as the arrow sank home. His head slumped down while his staff dropped from spasming fingers. The Crushing Prison around the Spirit of Compassion shattered into snowflakes, their magic released along with the mage's soul. The Spirit hesitated for a moment, but then disappeared in a hiss of smoke.

_No!_

_All this time. All this effort. Wasted. Because of that stupid selfish man. _Leliana's lip curled in a snarl of rage as she readied another arrow. _Just in case._

Pride withdrew from its exploration of Tiernan's entrails. Dropping the mage's body, it wiped glowing blood from its face with a wet smack. "That was unwise, mortal. He was my property, my feast. I still require sustenance. Thank you for volunteering. But first—"

Sighing with relief, the beast rummaged through Tiernan's robes to find the thick tome. The book, a guide for blood magic in the Fade, floated over the demon's palm for a few seconds. Then with a flex of its fingers, the book was swallowed into the scaly skin. A broken spine on Pride's back, dangling dangerously, was made whole again with a flash of light.

Leliana took a step back as she eyed the demon's gnarly profile. Other spines were broken or loosely hanging. _How many other debts was this monster looking to call in? Were one of those hers?_

"Not yet," Pride answered her thought with a grin. "But I can make your dreams come true. Your Grey Warden? As good as new. The price of that, however…" He gestured to the summoning circle between them.

"It has been so long since I tasted new flesh. The fool, Tiernan, has been my sole focus for far too long. Tell you what, pet. I shall just take a walk in your shoes for awhile, and you can stay here with your Warden. Just take my hand. It will not hurt a bit."

In response, Leliana fired an arrow at the Pride demon's chest, where it struck a soft spot between plates. The beast howled in anger. Just as Pride started to roar and give chase, Leliana turned on her heel and took off into the forest. She zigzagged through the trees, praying as hard as she could to be faster and more agile. The next roar she heard was one of outrage, and a considerable distance behind her.

_What do I do? What do I do?_ Leliana continued her loping pace, but her mind raced with rebuke. _I should not have come here. Why did I not tell Wynne my plan? Why did I not ask another to join me? _

_Because I did not think this would work. _

Leliana swallowed bitterly, allowing that thought to roll unsteadily out of the shell she'd been keeping it in. _Even after all I dreamed, all I hoped, I still… I did not believe it possible. _

_But look at all I did. _The Temple of Andraste flashed in her mind. The Urn of Sacred Ashes. Andraste. Crossing the Fade without a dream or mage. _I found all these things. And what if Tiernan, Maker rest him, was not lying about Mercy? What if the Warden, __**my**__ Warden, could still be made whole? Is that not worth all this? Is that not worth anything?_

"Oh, mortal. You think you are superior stock. That you passed through fire and are now clean. Your kind is never clean. I would have betrayed you, of course. As you would me. It is my nature. And what's more, this nature is yours as well." Pride's voiced taunted all around Leliana, but despite its arrogance, the demon still did not spring out of a nearby bush. _It can't find me. Yet._

_Which brings me back to my original question: what do I do? _

A curious warmth probed Leliana's mind, pushing the demon's whispers and promises aside. She tried to ask who was there, **what** was there, but there was no answer.

A cackle echoed through the forest. "Your dreams are so small. It is like the mind of a child. How you escaped my kind for so long is a mystery. Desire should have a profound foothold in you, and yet you remain flesh. It is long past time to see what we have to offer, pet."

_Shut. Up._ Leliana growled inwardly as she slowed to a quiet jog, alert and wary of any shadows or movements. The trees all looked the same. _There's no plan. I've only ever been reacting in this place. Everyone knows what's going on except me. I'm tired of being a step behind._

She turned back, bow in one hand and drawing her dagger into another. Remembering the last entry of the Warden's journal, Leliana used it to draw on his strength and make it her own.

"_I will stand and tilt but never withdraw. I am a Grey Warden: in peace, in war, in death."_

"For the Grey Warden," Leliana said aloud, raising her weapons in challenge. But before she could charge off to face the demon, it was like a soft hand held her shoulder. There was a plea to stop, to wait, though there were no words. It was a breath on her neck, a fleeting touch on her cheek, a steadiness that held Leliana in place.

_Who's there?_ She wondered. A glimmer of light appeared just outside her peripheral vision. _Have you come to help me? _The warmth returned to her mind, her temples.

_I'll take that as a yes._

The elusive nature of the Spirit of Compassion, while a relief it had not fled outright, was also a touch irritating to Leliana. The thrill of being hunted, the flurry of panic over the possibility of never reclaiming her body, and the sheer exhaustion of this journey had worn her patience down.

_I just… I want this to be over. Help me. Help me defeat Pride. Help me end this so I can go home._

Again, there were no words, but the glowing orb shifted downward to the dirt floor at her feet. It disappeared, leaving her with her short temper. _I don't understand! What are you trying to tell me?! Why don't you just say something?_

Leliana stabbed into the dirt with her dagger. Pinpricks of light sparkled back, but no other clues appeared. Stabbing again and again in hot anger, she threw her dagger down in defeat.

_I can see why people make deals with demons. At least they tell you what you want to hear._

She quickly scolded herself for her bitterness, for it wasn't helping her situation at all, and quickly prayed to the Maker for forgiveness.

_Think, Leliana. Why show you dirt? Ground? Defend the ground? What else? Footprints? Track the demon? …Maybe draw out a plan of action instead of just diving into a demon's open mouth?_

Picking up her dagger, Leliana decided to etch out what she remembered from the forest and the clearing. After the third swirling line cut into the dark earth, her hand jerked with a start. _Wait. Wait. The runes. The ones that don't free bards from prisons. Just because they didn't work then doesn't mean they don't have other uses._

The warmth returned to her temples, presumably to signify a correct answer. Inhaling a deep, confident breath, Leliana went to work.

* * *

><p>Pride was relentless in its pursuit, and on more than one occasion did Leliana have to hide under an embankment or cling to a tree branch just out of the demon's sight. Stealth was her main weapon against her foe, for she needed uninterrupted concentration to set up various traps.<p>

Rediscovering the runes' purpose with a demon on her heels had been dangerous, messy work. But with trial and error, Leliana had found a use for each of the Warden's discoveries. The beautiful sketch of her long ago against that tree trunk was first a log of her experimentation notes as she tested the runes on different surfaces, and finally a rune itself. _Just in case._

Satisfied that her preparation was sufficient, Leliana arrived at a small clearing just southeast of where the Warden stood. The final step was pulling an arrow from her quiver to scratch a final rune into her dagger hilts.

_Uf'dal._ "Liberate thy soul," Leliana heard whispered all around her, though she did not know if it were Mercy speaking, or just the Fade being drawn to the symbol. The daggers glowed briefly, but rather than shatter like the bars of her prison, they glinted dangerously with an imbued piercing property. _Liberate thy soul and the souls of others_, she amended in her mind. _Maker watch over us._

_Watch over **me**. Please._

Pride's thrashing had quieted as of late, which worried her that the demon had either tripped off one of her defenses. Or worse, was about to strike from a direction out of her control.

"I grow tired of this," the demon's voiced boomed all around her suddenly. "Both your cowardice and your soppy desires are needles in my spine. My hunger is not so great as to pass up fresh meat on either side. I offer you one last boon before I take my leave. Of your corpse.

"You can have everything your dreams of late wish for: the Grey Warden whole once more, a place on Ferelden's throne as a queen, a child in your waiting arms, a long life of joy and happiness. Your heart swells to imagine a crowd of subjects fawning over a queen rich in splendor, and for that deserving queen to be you."

True, she had dreamed of these things once. Months ago. Happier times spent wrapped in his arms, where fantasy pushed reality back to the edges. Dreams of nobility were the childish ones she kept to herself, but a life of joy and a child... those sat on Leliana's lips just out of reach for weeks before the end. _I thought there would be more time. After each cautious victory against the Blight, I started to allow myself that delicate hope of something beyond the following day. _

_But it wasn't pride to want, to hope, to be worthy of those things. Was it?_

"Nay, mortal," that damnable voice growled off to Leliana's right. "But you greatly overvalue your role in the Blight, the Chantry, even now as some savior of lost souls."

Padding lightly to the northeast toward the clearing, Leliana drew an arrow to her bow. She strafed to her left while trying to get a bead on where Pride could be hiding in the underbrush, waiting to pounce.

"And now, you are mine!"

It came from behind her. Leliana didn't have time to face the demon and her arrow fired off wildly above her. She only managed to get a three-quarter turn before Pride slammed into her back, claws wrapping hungrily around her. Tumbling to the ground with her right arm pinned, she pounded her free fist against that wicked snout.

Pride's breath was hot and sticky on her neck while a forked tongue ran over her cheek lecherously. The demon chuckled at how easily its prey was caught, taking a moment to savor the victory. Its jaws snapped threateningly right next to Leliana's ear.

Leliana froze and whispered under her breath. The glazed tongue retracted back into the beast's mouth so it could speak.

"What was that, pet? I didn't hear you."

With her free hand, Leliana drew an arrow from her quiver before stating coldly, "Je ne suis pas le vôtre!" _I am not yours._

She stabbed the arrow into the demon's face. Pride jerked its head back, but Leliana had already withdrawn the shaft. Claws dug into her side and shoulder as she dragged the arrowhead through scales to draw a crude H-shape. Above a smaller dot.

_Mik'sel. The illumination of silence. _Lightning sparked from the wound. Fibers of electricity danced along the beast's mouth, wrapping around snout and teeth in a tight cage of lightning. Leliana was left on the ground as Pride pulled back to claw at the muzzle now on its face.

Hesitating only for a moment to collect her bearings, Leliana took off into the forest once more. She zigzagged through the trees, making sure to watch for fat triangles she'd been carefully leaving scratched in the dirt at uneven intervals throughout the treeline. Pride's roar of rage signaled the cage rune had failed, as did the loud snapping of branches as powerful legs pumped to catch up to its prey.

Only chancing glances back, Leliana had to keep her breathing even so her bard instincts could take over. _Careful, careful. Not too soon. Too early and he will be on to you. Let him come to you. Use his newfound wariness to your benefit. Just like Marjolaine taught._ Thinking of her old bardmaster sent a growl of disdain to Leliana's jaw, but she pressed on resolutely.

Leliana purposefully backtracked and feigned dives and rolls to allow Pride to close the gap, but she wasn't stupid. Nor was the demon. Its rage had quieted, as had its thrashing. Both bard and demon now played a silent game of Chicken to see who would blink first in the Fade.

Pulling an arrow from her quiver, Leliana sent an arrow whistling off to her right as a warning shot. Gentle rustling trailed off further, so she fired another arrow to herd the demon back to her small clearing. Her third arrow pointed at the ground along with her bow, waiting for its chance to fight Pride.

She backed up slowly, feigning trepidating, which finally lured Pride into her line of sight with a roar. It weaved through the trees, ruining any chance of a straight shot, but it panted in glee the closer its charge came to Leliana. She strafed to her right with a quick jog, forcing Pride to dance counterclockwise to her left.

Right on top of one of the fat triangles she had drawn in the soft soil. Leliana aimed low for the top point of the shape, sending the arrow tumbling harmlessly into the dirt at Pride's feet. The demon hesitated on top of the now completed rune, opening its freed mouth to taunt her.

Then the ground caved in. _Frisd'l, earth-render. Patron rune of the dwarves of Gundaar to split the Stone._ Dirt and sand spilled into the now open crevasse on top of the Pride demon, sending up clouds of dust. Leliana had to clear her throat of the arrogant laugh bubbling up.

_Pride at defeating Pride seems counterproductive, no?_ She shushed herself and retreated back towards her clearing. _You are still running away. You must face your enemy._

Leliana picked up several medium-sized logs she'd found along the way, and took the few minutes she'd gained from again trapping Pride to place the three pieces of wood around the round clearing at even intervals. She pricked her thumb with one of her five remaining arrows then drew curved lines and a lightning bolt-like symbol into the wood with her blood. The final touch was pushing them into the ground like fence posts.

Tracing her bloody finger over three flint arrowheads, Leliana gripped them tightly in her hand so they would be close by. She knelt down next to the Grey Warden's ethereal form in prayer and waited.

_It is time to end this, my love._

"You are right, fleshling. It **is** time for this to end. I grow tired of your infantile games. There will be no bribery, no barter for your desires for your body anymore. That time has passed. Now, I shall take pleasure in destroying what you hold dear in the other world, for the simple purpose to cause you pain. You will sit helpless in the Fade with only a window into the other side so that you may see your world undone."

Lumbering into the clearing, Pride cracked its knuckles and dusted off the loose soil still cascading from its shoulders. "Only when I know that all that you ever knew and cherished is no more, will I return to the Fade and grant you the death you seek. To be reunited with your empty husk of affection then snuffed out just as easily."

No longer headstrong, Pride scanned the ground for more of her rune traps and casually began circling Leliana. She notched an arrow into her bowstring, keeping her arrow fingers at her cheek in readiness, but not giving away her target with her bow. The demon attempted to herd Leliana closer to it with a few icy frost bolts lobbed her way, but her nimble feet kept the attacks at bay.

The demon, spying no alternative, charged straight at Leliana once more. The ground blistered with wavy heat as the beast began summoning a fire blast to unleash, but she held her ground. Breathing steadily, her bard training again pleaded for patience. She adjusted the loose arrows in her hand to grip lower so they would slide easily in her bow for a more rapid fire assault.

"_Careful, careful, my Leliana,"_ Marjolaine advised her mind once more. _"Don't give away the game. Make them come to you. Your mystique, your earnestness, your brightness, is what draws the mark to you. Then they welcome death in your open arms. Just you wait."_

Pride covered two-thirds of the clearing distance in only a few seconds. Just as its arms swung up to direct its magical blast of fire, Leliana's arrows were already flying. One after another, with only fractions of a second delay between each. One after another, they struck the flat edges of wood standing in the clearing with a satisfying _thunk_. Skidding to a halt, the demon turned warily to see what new tricks the unmagical bard had conjured next.

Adding a final dot to the complicated _Od'sik_, the surface of the wood rippled and shuddered. Limbs sprouted from the sides as a round protrusion exploded from the top. Within a few moments, three Lelianas stood in the circle with bows all trained on Pride.

The mirror of flesh, _Od'sik_, was old _vallaslin_ magic from the Dalish elves. Leliana had tried several materials and tools to draw the rune before accidentally nicking her elbow on a rock. Sparking the idea of her blood as an ink, she attempted several runes on the Warden's list before discovering _Od'sik_'s curious properties. Seeing a living reflection of herself briefly sent Leliana's mind to spinning as a possible cure for her Grey Warden's plight, but the briefness of the mirror image would be too heartbreaking.

Once real arrows from the doppelgangers pierced Pride's flesh, its calm hunt became a blood frenzy to take down these false-flesh attackers. It roared in dismay as its mighty claws wrapped around a false Leliana only for the body to dissolve and a plank of wood remained. Its forked tongue couldn't resist claiming the tiny bit of blood on the wood, savoring the small victory and fanning the demon's hunger further.

Again distracting the demon, Leliana circled dangerously close to Pride's back as she attempted to repurpose Tiernan's powdered lyrium into assistance for herself. Mercy had been kind enough to whisper that the bulbous circle and points of _Huq'jyn_ could only be painted in lyrium, though Leliana did not yet know what the rune's result would be.

Before she could reach down to collect a handful of lyrium powder, a burst of ice sent daggers searing into Leliana's leathers and skin. The cold pinpricks staggered her long enough for Pride to break the third illusion's plank over her head. She staggered back to clear the spinning black from her eyes, but it was too late.

Pride grabbed Leliana in a crushing bear hug, spitting saliva in her face. The tongue traced over her forehead to sop up the rivulet of blood that trickled from the fresh wound to her head. Gulping greedily, the demon sighed with relief.

"Upon further consideration, fleshling, you are far too troublesome to remain in the Fade merely for torment. And all this exertion has stoked my hunger quite fiercely as well."

Freeing its right hand to dig fingers into the back of Leliana's hair, the demon pulled her head back to expose her neck. The tongue probed her jawline for the pounding pulse of her jugular artery, then retracted eagerly. Its breath was a damp hiss in her face.

"I am grateful for your sacrifice. Walk with your gods, fleshling."

* * *

><p><strong>Ren's Note:<strong>

_Making up more backstory for the runes I fabricated in the previous chapter. Hopefully it came across as exciting and researched.  
><em>

_I apologize for the long delay in chapters. Work has been a special brand of hell, eating up at least two weekends. I was also away over the American Thanksgiving holidays and just... yea. I'm a busy workaholic apparently. _

_I also apologize for the cliffhanger. Again. I intended to finish this story with this chapter but things were getting long once more. Next one is the last one, I swear!  
><em>


	12. Chapter 12: Not Yours to Make

_O Maker, hear my cry:  
>Guide me through the blackest nights<br>Steel my heart against the temptations of the wicked  
>Make me to rest in the warmest places.<em>

Squirming in the demon's grasp, Leliana held her breath to try and steady the panic rising in her chest. She dropped her now splintered bow from her uselessly pinioned hands, but then probed her sides for the telltale smooth metal of her dagger hilts.

Just as Pride's jaws opened to wrap around her throat, Leliana freed a dagger, spun it in her fingertips, and stabbed upward.

_O Creator, see me kneel:  
>For I walk only where You would bid me<br>Stand only in places You have blessed  
>Sing only the words You place in my throat<em>

The beast jerked its head as the runed weapon sank into its soft underarm flesh. Spasming in pain, Pride first tightened its grip, but then loosened the bear hug around Leliana. It was desperate to free the blade that had crunched into bone, but Pride refused to release its hard-won prey.

She decided in that split second to just let the dagger go, for there was a more precious object for her right hand to find. Her fingertips pushed past the flap on her satchel and found a folded piece of paper.

_My Maker, know my heart  
>Take from me a life of sorrow<br>Lift me from a world of pain  
>Judge me worthy of Your endless pride<em>

Once a painstaking ink drawing, precious to its owner, the worn paper was now covered in ruddy scribbles on the back. And on the front, Leliana had tarnished her Grey Warden's beautiful brushstrokes with several large, sweeping charcoal lines. A bat-like symbol was scribbled over the surface, missing just one simple line to complete the rune.

Forcing her free hand with the paper up against her chest, Leliana dabbed a thumb at her forehead to catch some of her blood. She managed to maneuver a bloody smear over the crinkled sheet in her hand, completing the mark of _Erybak_ just as Pride yanked the dagger from its arm and snapped its jaws down.

_My Creator, judge me whole:  
>Find me well within Your grace<br>Touch me with fire that I be cleansed  
>Tell me I have sung to Your approval<em>

Leliana flexed her knees and pushed herself down through the demon's open arms to hit the ground on her bottom. But not before shoving the runed paper into Pride's gaping maw. The beast lurched forward to crush Leliana with one powerful, deadly strike, but was instead thrown backwards.

Smoke poured from its mouth, the result of a concentrated explosion set off within. _Erybak, _the Tevinter rune for _swiftfire_, had ignited and burned a hole in Pride's jaw. The beast fell heavily onto its back, clutching clawed hands to its face in agony. Once agile and deadly, the hulking demon rolled and groaned feebly on the ground.

_O Maker, hear my cry:  
>Seat me by Your side in death<br>Make me one within Your glory  
>And let the world once more see Your favor<em>

Panting from the sheer terror of once again avoiding near-death, Leliana pushed herself unsteadily to her feet. She unsheathed her remaining dagger and knelt before Pride. Even now, pity welled up within her to end the demon's suffering. Even now, in spite of everything.

Gripping the curved blade hilt with both hands, Leliana swung it over her head and softly finished her Canticle prayer from the Chant of Light.

"For You are the fire at the heart of the world  
>And comfort is only Yours to give."<p>

Pride's reptilian eyes flashed wide as it saw the blade come down, but it was over in an instant. Leliana left her dagger in the demon's left eye and let out a long, shaky breath. The Fade had once seemed so magical, so mysterious. But there had always been that ugliness at its edges, knowing what evils lurk within. The Sloth demon at Circle Tower had been the first to peel back the Veil of the Fade and reveal the twisted dreams of the demented.

_It is time to wake up._

She didn't so much as walk as hobble over to where the Grey Warden stood. He had not moved an inch. He was still locked in combat with the Archdemon, a fraction of a second away from losing the last good piece of himself. Leliana didn't want promises anymore. From Tiernan. From a Pride demon. She wanted what she came here for and nothing less.

"Mercy. Spirit of Compassion. Please. I know you are there," Leliana whispered into the now silent trees. There was no warmth or whispers. There wasn't anything.

She spoke louder, letting her exhaustion show. "Please! O Spirit of Compassion! I know you are watching. Please, just answer me." She dropped to the ground to sit on her heels, stretching her arms across her thighs with palms raised. It was a pleading, meditative pose.

"I am not here to trap you. Or enslave you. I am not a mage. I didn't come here for you. I came here for him. This man. This Grey Warden. All of this has been for him."

No reply. She wondered if Compassion thought she would fail. Maybe the Spirit had fled, found another shining beacon of Mercy somewhere else in the Fade. Leliana suddenly remembered her cold thought when Tiernan had been pleading for her to assist him.

_No where in there did I hear an apology._

"Please. Spirit. I am so sorry for all of this. I merely wished to speak to you. To ask, to **beg** of you. But this world, this place, is beyond my comprehension. I am sorry I asked for that blood mage's assistance. I am sorry I made a deal with a demon. I am sorry I let my desperation overrule my good sense. I am… sorry. I am sorry to have caused you pain. I wish to speak with you, and only speak. You are free to decide your own destiny."

Leliana sighed and closed her eyes. She feared she had ruined her chance forever. Would it be better to awaken now, and know she had failed? Or simply sit here, in the Fade, for eternity?

_That river of tears is beginning to sound really good about now, Alindra… Alin'dara._

The blackness of her eyelids suddenly warmed with a glow of orange. It was a moving, shifting glow. She squinted, her vision assaulted by the radiant sight before her. The Spirit of Compassion stood next to the Grey Warden, solidifying into a dimly female form. It, **she**, touched a familiar hand to the Warden's cheek. A sparkle of light trailed down a motherly face. A teardrop.

_The Spirit… mourns him_, Leliana realized. She cautiously stood up, uncertain if a sudden movement would frighten Mercy off. Slowly outstretching her palms in an earnest plea, Leliana spoke softly.

"You have lost one dear to you as well, haven't you? I wish to tell you that your Spirit of Faith lives. She lives inside of a dear, dear friend of mine. A kind, wonderful person. Wynne is grateful every second of every day that she has left because of Faith."

The Spirit turned and seemed to study Leliana, though there were no eyes. It was too bright for just a simple human face. It was color, life, warmth, all wrapped within a cocoon of light.

"I… I was wondering… could this not be what Spirits might be for? Second chances? To keep the best of us going a little while longer? Wynne most certainly deserve such a chance, and has done so much good. She helped end the Blight. And so did—so did my Grey Warden," Leliana offered, allowing a soft smile to lift her cheeks.

She was feeling suddenly nostalgic, and spoke intimately. To a friend. "He was merciful to all we came across. I knew him but a short year, and every day he surprised me. He held his anger, his anguish, so tightly. It should have made him callous, cold, and vengeful. But he wasn't. He refused to share or shed his burden upon anyone, and still could show kindness… Even toward our enemies. Monstrous werewolves. Treacherous dwarves. Bitter elves. He poured his compassion out before them and offered them a hand and a second chance."

Leliana trailed off as fat tears rolled down her cheeks. _He deserves to be at the Maker's side. Not here, in this dark place, with an Archdemon strangling his last breath for eternity. Please. __**Please**__._

She squinted her eyes shut, but they burst open when she realized the orange glow had disappeared. Mercy was gone.

Collapsing to her knees, Leliana couldn't even cry out. She had nothing left. After all this, she'd given everything and been left with nothing. The Fade was supposed to be where dreams came true.

Suddenly, the Grey Warden's form went from transparent to solid. He still gripped an ethereal sword, but she could no longer see right through his flesh. Before Leliana could reach out to touch him, cracks appeared all along his armor and body. They rippled and groaned as little beams of light poked through along the cracks.

In one swift river of light, the cracks exploded. Leliana had to shield her face from the breaking shards. She lurched uneasily to her feet, fearful to uncover her eyes and see nothing there.

Warm hands enveloped hers at her face, gently tugging them away. Leliana opened her eyes and inhaled one short and one long, shuddering gasp.

"No! No no no. Please, Maker, no!" The Grey Warden shouted at her, his face not warm with recognition but wide with fear. He knelt before her, clutching her shaking hands. He bowed his head, his auburn hair spiked and messy. Leliana tried to speak, to understand, but her emotions caught in her throat.

"I am so sorry, my love. I did not wish you to suffer. I thought you would live a long life if I ended the Blight. Tell me, where did I fail you? Were you hurt and I just did not see it?"

It was several long seconds before Leliana realized what was going on. First, that her Grey Warden was back. _Back_. His soul was whole. _**He**__ was whole_. The second was that he had no idea what day it was. _He thinks this moment was just after he slew the Archdemon, that I perished on Fort Drakon at his side._

Pushing their clasped hands forward, she touched the back of her hands to his cheeks. They were warm and slightly rough from his facial hair. _Familiar_. She had to clear her throat several times to summon the will just to speak.

"No, my sweet Warden. I did not fall. You did as you sought: you killed the Archdemon. It is no longer the fall but the winter, the month of Wintermarch. And we are not in the afterlife but merely the Fade where dreams unite. This is a dream I can awake from, should I wish it." _Do I? _

The Grey Warden required convincing, insisting on "Truly?" for several long moments before he had the courage to stand again.

"I prayed I would see you once more," the Grey Warden said softly. His rich tenor was stretched thin by a wide, radiant smile outlined by the short hair of his ruddy red and brown beard. There was no blood spatter on his pale forehead, no nicks or arrows in his plate armor. The eyes were clear and blue, with little flecks of gold around the pupils.

Just as she remembered him. Not as a wraith or a ghost or a spirit. Just …_him_.

But she was uncertain and wary. The Fade liked to play tricks. To give her false hope. To promise impossible things. It made her angry. This entire terrible ordeal made Leliana angry. "Why did you leave? Why didn't you speak to me of what was to come? Why did you leave me a book of regret?"

Forehead creasing with worry, the Grey Warden attempted to interject but Leliana's raised voice drowned him out. "I deserved the truth! I deserved a conversation at the very least!"

"You deserved better—" he started to say forlornly. Leliana cut him off again.

"**I deserved you."**

He smiled at this. He had the nerve to be relieved when Leliana was so angry. But he always could disarm her, just as she him. "You did. You do. You always will. …Did I deserve you, Leliana?"

It was a simple statement that completely deflated her spinning rage. "I—you—of course. Of course you do. You always will."

"Well, that settles it then," the Warden smiled, recalling the first thing she'd said after sharing their first kiss. Leliana smiled cautiously back, but worry crept back in to ruin this stolen happiness.

"There is something you must know, my Warden. We are in the Fade, **my** Fade, but you—you are not. You did not survive the encounter with the Archdemon. Do you remember?"

He pressed a gloved hand to his chin, scratching at his beard in his usual way. The Warden was silent for a few moments. "I remember the battle. All that darkspawn in Denerim. I nearly vomited out my entire tainted blood, their stench was so overpowering," he smiled, though Leliana wrinkled her nose in disgust. "I remember the Archdemon. Sliding under its belly and spilling its entrails. Thrusting my sword into its head. But then there was light. And then nothing."

He turned to her, frowning. "I remember thinking I should be satisfied. It was what I wanted, after all. To be worthy. Of your faith. My family. Myself. That this was some mighty deed and I should feel as a giant standing atop its mountain, surveying what it knows to be true, and I waited for that feeling of—I don't know. Purpose? Pride? Victory? But there was nothing.

"I was happy though," the Warden said simply, reaching out for Leliana's wrist.

"With dying?"

His eyes crinkled though his lips didn't crack a smile. "No. I saw you. Before it happened. I remember you, and I—I wanted to always remember you... You looked so sad though."

"Of course I did. You **left** me. You left me all alone." Leliana hated how small and pathetic she sounded, like some simpering maiden.

"But you know why now, don't you?" He knew Alistair would deliver his last request. During their brief exchange before finally slaying the Archdemon, the Warden had quietly handed Alistair his journal and whispered its instructions. The future King of Ferelden was ashen, but Alistair did finally swear to respect the Warden's wishes.

Leliana reached inside her satchel out of habit for the book that wasn't there. It didn't really matter. After four months, she knew the Grey Warden's last year of life nearly as well as she did the Chant of Light. "…Yes, but that does not mean I agree with it. You never gave me the chance. …tell me truly: why could you not speak to me of these things? Did you not trust me?"

He winced at the accusation, though he was prepared for it. He held out his hands, begging for understanding. "Of course I trusted you. With my life. My heart. My future. But… I did what I must for Ferelden. I fear I will never have an acceptable explanation for you, my beloved. It was my duty, my responsibility, my oath. I ran every scenario I could think of in my head the night before the battle. And all choices, even the wrong ones, told me to remain silent."

The Warden dropped his hands in defeat, his eyes shining with tears. "The truth? I do not know what the truth is. I was afraid. I could profess grand tales of wanting to protect you, but that demeans us both..." Leliana nodded begrudgingly. _On that, we do agree._

"I don't know what to tell you, Leliana. I was afraid to die. The simple matter of it was: I did not want to share the burden. And I wanted our remaining time together to be beautiful, not rife with unknown regret. That is all I had left, that selfish wish," his eyes briefly flicked up to meet hers, then shut tight. Light dewy tears squeezed out from his long eyelashes.

Leliana was thoughtful for a moment. She had hoped this long-awaited conversation would be more satisfying. But like the physical battle back in Andraste's Temple, there were no placating words to massage the hurt away. _…was that only a few hours ago? Did I truly hope it would all be so easy: to find him, forgive him, and be at peace?_

Looking back at the Warden, Leliana sighed. She placed her hand upon his chin, running her thumb over that scratchy beard. _He torments himself with his regret, and my anger will do nothing to diminish his pain. Or mine._

"We shouldn't fear death or hate it," she said softly. "Death is just another beginning."

The Warden turned his gaze back to her, a light smile pulling his entire face out of darkness. "'One day, we must all shed our earthly bodies to allow our spirits to fly free,'" he quoted her words from only a few short months ago, on the night they had finally shared together as one.

_It is a beautiful sentiment, one that brings peace and hope, _Leliana thought quietly as her shoulders leaned forward to press her lips to his. He tasted clean. Gentle. His teeth tugged at her lower lip with a light insistence, asking the kiss to deepen. She obliged.

Much was poured in to that long absent kiss. She returned his intensity with her own, clutching her hands to the back of his neck while his hands settled along her waist and around her shoulders. No effort was made to pull away for many long, blissful minutes. She could taste her Warden's sorrow, his regret. When his forehead touched hers, she felt his tears pass to her cheeks as hers did to his. Even that feathery tickle did not interrupt them.

Neither realized when the kiss transitioned to a tight hug. It was several cleansing breaths before Leliana noticed that her ear was pressed to his cheek with her chin tucked into his collarbone. She dug her fingernails into the Warden's back while his hand laced through her long hair at her neck. They both sighed deeply at odd intervals, communicating with touch what they had both failed to say before:

_How I missed you._

Leliana was the first to pull away, but not completely. She ran her hand from his neck, down his shoulder and bicep, over his forearm to interlace her fingers with his. Gesturing at their surroundings, she started at the beginning. Denerim was only a few days gone, Haven and the Ruined Temple but a few hours ago. She did not gloss over her anger at Marjolaine, the pain of fighting a spirit of him, her uncertainty dealing with Tiernan or the Pride demon.

His eyes remained on hers for the length of her story. The Warden's expression barely wavered from interested calm, though occasionally his brow creased or his eyes crinkled as he alternated between worry and amusement. She wanted to know if he felt the Spirit of Compassion within him. He didn't know. He said his thoughts still felt like his own, and there were no whispers or warmth like Leliana experienced during her time in the Fade.

Their conversation ended awkwardly, for neither knew how to proceed from so many raw confessions and lost moments.

He was the first to finally say it, "So what now?"

"I …cannot keep you here. I am sorry, my love. But I only saw ahead as far as this moment. You were the one with the gift of foresight, of seeing a hundred battles before they'd even taken place." Leliana could barely feel the Warden squeezing her hand trying to tell her with touch,_ That isn't true._

"You give yourself too little credit."

Leliana shrugged. "Mayhap, but that does not change that I must wake up. And you cannot come with me. I am in the Temple of Andraste. I used Andraste's ashes to save your soul. But your body is four months dead, and on its way to Weisshaupt fortress to join the other Warden heroes."

"So I cannot stay." He asked it and said it at the same time. The Warden's blue eyes seemed hooded, as though he was holding back.

"My wish to the Maker and Andraste was to make you whole again, so that you can claim your rightful place at the Maker's side. To return you to where you belong: **that** was my prayer." Leliana pleaded with him to understand. _I confess, I am not quite so selfless as that. But it hardly matters now._

"What if I refuse?"

She was stunned. "What—why?" _Who would refuse the Maker's heavenly light, given the chance? Given a __**second**__ chance?_

_A Grey Warden might. Her Grey Warden would._

"Leliana, I spent the last year of my life doing the Right Thing. Most of the time, it coincided with what I wished to do, with the sort of man I wanted to be. And you went to great pains to find me here, in the darkness. I cannot even imagine what you must have suffered for this, and willingly. You chose to face this on my behalf, when success was not only uncertain but unlikely. In this regard, among so many others: you are better than me, my love."

He traced his thumb over the back of Leliana's hand and smiled sadly before continuing.

"I was nearly forced to be a Grey Warden, as I had no where else to go and the Blight demanded I stay. But this, you could have walked away or moved on, and you didn't. You stayed when all other instincts said it isn't worth it, or even possible."

Bowing his head before her, the Warden knelt. His hand not holding hers clenched into a fist at his chest in salute.

"If you will allow it, I would like to stay. With you. Even if we can only meet in dreams, and I must remain a prisoner forever… please let me stay. You said you asked Andraste to make me whole, but also to return me to where I belong... Here, at your side, is where I belong. To be your shield was all I ever wished for from the moment I met you. Even should you find another, it would still be my honor to protect you. ...It was my vow, after all."

It **was** his vow, made almost offhand during one of their many wanderings in the woods on the Bannorn. _"My oath is my bond. As I swore to serve the Grey Wardens, I promise to always watch over you and protect you. And I hope you understand, you believe, how much I have come to love you, Leliana."_

While still aching with pleasure at the gesture, Leliana could not ignore reality. "I—I do not know what to say, my Warden. I do not know how to give you what you ask. If this is a dream, how would I ever return here to see you? I cannot bear the thought of condemning you to the Fade to wander forever searching for me. To end up a husk of a man like Tiernan. I won't have you become an abomination on my behalf." It pained her to say these things.

The Warden's eyes, so clear and blue, hardened to clear white crystals. The Spirit of Compassion, the mortar of his broken soul, remained. Even as a puppet with the Warden pulling its strings.

"It is time to finish _Huq'jyn_, traveler. It is easy to get lost without a way home." The Grey Warden was frozen in place once more. Leliana tugged her fingers from his grasp and called his name, but he did not respond.

She called out to Mercy to explain, to release him, to help, but there was no answer. _What else can I do? _

_Finish the last rune._

Placing a kiss on the Warden's forehead, Leliana returned to the middle of the clearing circle. The circle of lyrium was trampled from her struggling, and Pride's still body had scratched out the lines around the circle forming a point. She pushed the heavy corpse, having to dig her heels into the ground to get enough leverage to move the beast aside. Collecting handfuls of lyrium powder from Tiernan's blood magic runes, Leliana slowly finished the two broken lines.

It happened so quickly, she did not get a chance to pray or even say goodbye.

With a deep, gasping breath, Leliana awoke in the Temple. Instead of a burned journal clutched in her hand, Leliana grasped a small crystal. The soul phial. It was no longer empty. The symbol of _Huq'jyn_, "return," was stamped into the side. A warmth spread through her fingertips. It tingled and calmed. Even though the room of Andraste's ashes was empty, Leliana knew she wasn't alone.

Leliana left the temple, her footsteps following each other on pure, mechanical instinct. Her mind was blank but full at the same time, still struggling to comprehend all that had happened within this strange day. She was so dazed that she did not even notice Ser Perth escorting her outside the ruins with two knights in tow. The man was not offended, for he just assumed she was humbled from seeing the remains of the Maker's Chosen. Ser Perth asked her to be careful finding her way back to the road to Haven, and to walk with the Maker.

A starving bear had stumbled into the abandoned town of Haven, but before Leliana could even draw a dagger, a shadow darted out of the forest and pounced on the beast. The bear swung claws, but its attacker was too nimble, too quick, and in a swift strike the bear's throat was ripped out.

Sitting before Leliana, its muzzle bloodied and its fur matted, was an old friend. The Grey Warden's mabari, gone these four months since the Warden's passing.

"_Gavrel. His name is Gavrel,"_ she heard a man whisper in her mind. Her fingers touched the crystal in her satchel, reassured that her Warden was not lost in the Fade but now always close by.

"Thank—thank you for your intervention… Gavrel." The mabari's stub tail began to wag fiercely when it heard its name. It knew its master was nearby, and jumped up to follow Leliana as she padded back to the Imperial Highway. A half hour went by before the mabari barked, signaling movement along the road. It was another moment before Leliana heard the telltale _clop-clop_ of horses.

The wine merchant, first taken aback by the mabari's defensive growling, agreed to take the bard and her canine companion as far as Montsimmard. She would have to find another ride to take her the rest of the way to Val Royeaux to meet the Grand Cleric there. Six gold coins were exchanged before Leliana found herself sitting in the back of the man's cart, scratching Gavrel's ears.

Even though her satchel was lighter without the Warden's journal, she still had a few remnants of her life within. A letter from a dear friend had been read and reread but not answered. She found a few sheets of parchment amongst the barrels, and began crafting a short reply.

* * *

><p><em>My Dearest Dorothea,<em>

_I hope this letter finds you well. I am journeying to Orlais to meet you at Val Royeaux. It has been far too long, my dear friend. I have been thinking carefully these last few months, and I have decided to take up your offer to return to service within the Chantry. _

_I shall send another letter detailing where to meet once I return to Val Royeaux._

_Be well, my friend, and be at peace with the Maker._

_Leliana_

* * *

><p>Another letter, addressed to the King of Ferelden, respectfully requested the transfer of her, <em>their, <em>things to Val Royeaux. Including the delivery of one (probably very upset) nug. Leliana hesitated, considering telling Alistair of her journey, but instead reassured him that she was well.

_Very well indeed._

The bouncing of the merchant cart was lulling, and her head leaned back against a wooden barrel. She fast asleep within a few seconds. In her dreams, a familiar campsite sat next to a peaceful pond. There were silhouettes of old friends at their tasks, laughing and chatting, but one shone brighter than all the stars in the heavens.

The Grey Warden stood up from his stump to greet her, and Leliana walked into his waiting arms with a smile.

* * *

><p><strong>Ren's Note:<strong>

_Leliana's prayer opener is from the Canticle of Transfigurations 12:1-12:6, found in the Dragon Age Wiki._

_Is this the end? Well, it could be. Leliana can devote her life to the Maker and not be tempted off her path, for no pretty face can hold a candle to where she goes in her dreams. And then they can both watch over each other for eternity in the stars._

_But… I have a feeling Leliana can only tolerate a part-time relationship in the Fade for so long. And the very first review I ever received (on _DA: Reminiscent_ by owl208) __**was**__ a request for a happy ending so…_

_Coming soon: the gripping/soppy/hopefully charming finale to reuniting Leliana with her Grey Warden in _DA: Homecoming_._

_Thanks for reading, reviewing and following! I adjusted my cover art to include the rune Leliana shoves in the Pride demon's mouth. Part of my devotion to be a corn ball, drawing and writing-wise. ...Oh well!  
><em>


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